Who helps the outcasts, when no one will?
by The Grey Wolf Ghost
Summary: The team receives a desperate call from the Las Vegas PD. Over the course of 6 months,5 kids ranging from 7-14 have gone missing only to turn up Euthanized 3 days later, More info inside rated T for language. Takes place during season 1. Chap. 28 up
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Longer description from summary: With the Unsub's timetable growing shorter, the team and LVPD race against him to determine his identity, before another child is abducted. During the case Garcia makes a startling connection between one of the BAU and a potential victim, the lead detectives nephew.

I do not own any thing in the fic that is directly connected to Criminal Minds, the original characters and the plot is the only thing I take ownership of. This was written back when the show was in its second season and I decided to upload it to see how it is received by the fan-fiction community. Enjoy!

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><p>"<em>God help the outcasts hungry from birth, show them the mercy they don't find on earth, lost and forgotten, they look to you still, god help the outcasts, when nobody will…I don't know if there's a reason why some are blessed, some not. Why the few you seem to favor; they fear us, flee us, try not to see us. God help the outcasts, the tattered, the torn. Seeking an answer to why they were born. Winds of misfortune have blown them about. You made the outcasts don't cast them out<em>."

God Help the Outcasts- Bette Midler, Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame.

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><p>Friday March 3rd, 2006<p>

2:55 PM

Hoover Middle School, Northeast Las Vegas, Nevada

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><p>Grant Dennerson slammed his locker shut and glared at the metal door as it bounced back open at him, he had to duck to avoid getting hit with the backlash and heard snickering erupt behind him.<p>

Clenching his fist, Grant began counting to ten under his breath, trying to ignore the continuous snickering. He knew what was behind him, Mitchell Jones and his thugs, they knew just what buttons to press with Grant and he was determined not to give in; not that it mattered once his foster parents found out about the fight he had gotten into that morning, he was as good as grounded, one more fight really wouldn't do any damage aside from physical and he was already sporting a black eye and a split lip, what more could they do?

He was tempted…so tempted to turn around and attack, but for the first time, Grant managed to keep control over his anger, he had already been in his guidance counselor's office once today, seeing him again so soon would not be the highlight of the day for either one of them, considering how hard his guidance counselor had to work to convince the principal not to suspend him for the earlier fight.

Sighing with the thought of NOT disappointing Mr. Cramer, Grant just pushed past Mitch heading for the front doors of Hoover Middle school.

He had just reached the door and he felt something cold and very wet hit the back of his head, reaching to his neck as whatever it was slid down, seeping beneath his shirt, Grant made a disgusted face as he realized what was on his hand and his back, a partially dissected frog from biology; the liquid that kept the frogs fresh for class was what was dripping down the back of his neck while the frog's guts clung to his clothes.

The words retard and SPED floated down the hall mixed with hideous laughter as Grant furiously wiped the back of his neck clean, not that it helped, he could still feel the slim and frog guts seeping down his back and he felt like he was going to be sick.

Feeling the sting of tears in his eyes, Grant pushed open the doors and bolted down the steps; his plan? To head for his one sanctuary, his one place of acceptance, an arcade about four blocks from his 4th foster home in seven years.

His foster mother was going to kill him for not calling and letting her know where he was, but he figured he'd deal with that later, maybe he could see if Paris wanted to go, give his younger buddy a good butt whopping at their favorite game, 'Cruisin' USA' a game that even genius Paris had yet to beat him at, he was three years older than Paris, but they had been best friends since Paris was four years old and Grant was seven…

Grant sighed, but then again…hanging out with Paris would mean the kid figuring out that something was wrong, that kid excelled at reading people, and even though Paris wouldn't pry, Grant didn't want to ruin what could be a good time at an arcade with his best friend; he was better off going to the arcade alone, he'd take Paris on during April vacation…it was coming up, maybe get someone to take them to Game Works or Grand Gamers Domain, the two biggest arcades in Vegas, if neither one of them had done anything to get themselves grounded in that time span that is. They had both been to the GGD tons of times, but only Grant had been to GameWorks, the largest arcade in the state.

He glanced across the street at the elementary school, where all the younger kids were loading onto the busses, being picked up by parents, or walking home with friends, he saw Paris sitting on a school bus, sitting by himself as usual, also as usual, absorbed in a book. The younger boy looked up and saw Grant standing on the steps, he started to stand up to wave to his friend, but the bus lurched forward and headed down the street, leaving a cloud of dust. Adjusting his backpack, Grant made his way towards the arcade, fully prepared to lose himself in as many games as he could afford.

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><p>March 9th, 2006<p>

11:50 AM

Quantico, Virginia. FBI Headquarters.

JJ took a deep breath as she clicked the remote for the next image to fill the screen; just an hour before, she had received a desperate, desperate being the exact word, call from a Captain Eric Williamson of Las Vegas. Williamson, whose territory reigned over the Northeast area of the city, had practically begged for the BAU's help in solving a total of five homicides in different areas of the city. Williamson, along with captains of the other districts had grouped together and come to the conclusion that they needed extra insight on the case, mainly because of who the victims were.

After seeing the photos and reading the reports that had been sent to her, JJ quickly let Agent Aaron Hotchner know that the team had a new case and thus a team meeting was called.

On the screen, the image of a boy about 13 years of age appeared. The boy was sitting on the floor and by all appearances, was simply sleeping, but of course everyone knew that wasn't the case.

"This is Grant Dennerson, 13. He was last seen just outside his middle school on March 3rd; he was found three days later, at the Grand Gamers Domain, one of the largest arcades in Vegas. He was found sitting off in the corner of the arcade on the floor, his wallet full of ones, his pockets full of tokens, and a brand new PSP in his hand. He had been given a lethal dose of Phenobarbital and left at the arcade. He is the fifth child in six months to have gone missing from the Vegas area only to turn up in random locations around the city, dead from lethal doses of Phenobarbital"

"Five kids in six months? How did it take five kids before LVPD realized something was up?" Morgan spoke up a bit of resentment in his voice, not towards JJ of course, but towards LVPD.

"It wasn't until the fifth victim did they realize the one thing all the kids had in common." JJ paused "aside from all of them being under fifteen, all five were victims of bullying, either at home or at school. But even this wasn't picked up on because it is literally the only thing the kids have in common, all of them are of different ages, races, come from different parts of the city, different family situations, even different schools." Another click of the remote brought up ten images, photos of the kids before their abduction and police photos of the crime scenes. "Philip Carlson, 7, he was the first victim and the youngest; seized by the state when he was six months old, he was adopted by his foster parents when he was a year old. At home he was a happy seven year old, but at school he was the target of teasing due to a severe learning disability, he went missing from Hartke Park just off of East Tonopah Avenue and McDaniels Street, when Mrs. Carson looked away set out their lunch, he was found in the same park three days later," the image of a covered slide filled the screen, "sitting inside the top of this covered slide, as if he was hiding."

"So he kidnaps the kids, holds them for three days, then euthanizes them?" Elle said more to herself than anyone as she studied the photos. "any sign of sexual or physical abuse on the kids?" JJ shook her head

"Each of the kids were found clean, well fed, and wearing brand new clothes, none of them minus Philip Carson had a mark on them, apparently he had a skinned knee, which he received at least 22 hours before his death, it was treated with antiseptic ointment and covered by an Incredibles band-aid" Reid looked up, his face twisted in confusion

"Incredibles?" he asked Morgan laughed a bit

"It's a kids movie Reid, computer animated; y'know Pixar?" Reid's blank look just gave Morgan more reason to chuckle "Man you do need to get out more; they've been around for what ten years, eleven years?" JJ looked at her file and looked at the team

"Coincidently or not, The Incredibles was one of Philip's favorite movies, he watched it constantly, he loved the idea of superhero's coming to save the day, the Incredibles and Batman were two superheroes that he really looked up to."

"But aside from that there were no marks on the kids?" Morgan asked leaning back in his chair

"The kids trusted him enough that he didn't need to restrain them," Reid noted to no one in particular "they knew him,"

"And he knew them," Elle replied

"But it's what the M.E. found that has LVPD baffled," JJ replied, handing everyone a copy of each child's coroner report, "and that is their stomach contents,"

"Chips, soda, pizza, cheeseburgers," Morgan read aloud "sounds typical for any American, especially kids, most kids would live off this stuff if someone let them; I know I would've when I was a kid."

"Food that a kid could easily get anywhere in Vegas, but what about prime rib, Caesar salad, and a Shirley Temples, those you unfortunately you can't just pop into McDonalds and order." Hotch noted as he flipped through each child's paperwork.

"Not only were those listed as her favorite foods, but those foods are the last thing that Gracie Newton ate." The image of a nine year old girl filled the screen, she was smiling, though it was obvious she was looking off camera at something that was distressing her, but wanting to look happy for the camera she maintained a pleasant smile. "Gracie went for a hike in the woods just behind her house, she never came home. Three days later hikers found her, leaning against a tree, in Spring Mountains National Recreation Area, as if she had been there the entire time watching the wildlife."

"Guys, Spring Mountains is a part of Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest, it's about 35 miles from downtown Las Vegas, we're talking about over 316,000 acres that's 1.2788 kilometers of wilderness. How is that these hikers found her so quickly?" Reid pointed out, "and what's more, why so far from the city itself." Morgan looked over at the young genius and rolled his eyes amused, Reid shrugged his shoulders,

"That would be the other commonality with the victims," JJ stated, "according to the ME, all the kids were found within one hour of their death. And surprisingly, Gracie was found just 15 minutes after the ME determined her time of death to be." Gideon, who had been studying the photos intently, looked up at the team,

"He's leaving them at sites they would always feel safe, in well traveled areas…so they will be found quickly" He finally said, "an arcade, the forest, a playground…it's the imbedded wish of all human beings, to die where security and comfort seems to last forever, where nothing can bad can ever happen where we are the most happy."

The others looked at one another, then stared back at the photos of the five children, each one with a story to tell about their brief life, each one with a future that would never happen, each one whose life had been snuffed out.

"Its possible that we have a self proclaimed Angel of Mercy on our hands," Hotch noted, before looking his team over, all of them seemed anxious for this case, cases involving kids always took a heavy toll, but this one seemed to scream out to them. "Wheels up in one hour people," with those words, the team dispersed, to prepare for the long flight to Vegas and the anticipated stressful case ahead.


	2. Chapter 2

Thursday March 9TH, 2006

8:50 AM

Adams Elementary School, Northeast Las Vegas, Nevada

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><p>Paris "Xander" Smith took a deep breath as he walked down the aisle of his fifth grade classroom. As far as weeks could go, this one wasn't going bad, considering it was almost over, just two full days until the weekend and three days until his birthday on Sunday.<p>

Just six hours to go till the bell rang at 3:00; that was 360 minutes, 21,600 seconds, 21,600,000,000,000 nanoseconds…, Paris took another deep breath to calm his mind down, going into nanoseconds was just asking for agony, 360 minutes sounded bad enough…but 21,600,000,000,000 nanoseconds sounded even worse. Well, at least the weekend was on its way…just under 48 hours…2,880 min- he shook his head…reminding himself not to even start.

Quickly he took his seat and pulled out his math homework from the previous night. It had been the first time in a week that Eric, his uncle/foster father hadn't checked his homework, not to make sure the answers were right, but to make sure it was done at all, but some big case had Chief Eric Williamson running ragged and checking on his nephew's homework was the last thing on his mind.

Without even a second thought, Paris quickly answered each question on his worksheet, wrote Xander Smith on the top and pushed it to the corner of his desk. Paris had been going by Alexander since he was five and Xander for about three years, Alexander had been another name that his namesake had gone by, and frankly they just sounded normal as opposed to Paris, not to mention it was his middle name.

It wasn't that he didn't respect the name his mom had given him, quite the contrary, to be named for a Trojan Prince from a story as famous as the Iliad was cool and something to be proud of… unfortunately for most, the name Paris did not bring up images of Greek heroes and ancient battles, it brought up a more feminine image…such as the heiress to the Hilton Hotel chain and voted most likely to be caught doing some stupid reality show.

No, it was just safer to let everyone think his name was Alexander. At five years old, Paris had approached his kindergarten teacher and explained his situation to her. To say she was surprised by his explanation would an understatement. She was use to typical five year olds, whose biggest problems were remembering how to spell their name and how to find the bathroom on their own; she had been completely taken aback by Paris's request and taken aback by the way he explained his situation.

But since that day, Paris made a point to approach his teachers about his situation. At first most brushed off his request as him being untrusting to his peers and paranoid, all gave in eventually and he had yet to have a teacher call him Paris while in the presence of his peers.

With his math homework done, Paris turned his attention to his reading; each student had chosen a book and over the course of two weeks was expected to read at least two chapters of their book a night, at the end of the two weeks, a presentation would be made by each student on their chosen book. This day was the halfway mark for the class and today at 1:20, each member of the class was to discuss their book thus far.

Most of his peers were halfway through their chapter books, titles such as Hatchet, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the Chronicles of Narnia books, the Westing Game, Paris had even seen Jamal Goldberg reading Red Badge of Courage, attempting to suck up to their teacher. Everyone knew that Jamal hated to read and was planning on just using cliff-notes to do his report and was even planning on finding the movie version to avoid doing even more work than necessary (which Paris wished him the best of luck finding, since only two movies had ever been made, one in 1951 and the other in 1974, the latter of the two never made it to video and exactly how long Jamal would last with the 50s one was up for betting).

Everyone knew of Jamal's plans…everyone that is minus the teacher, and Paris seriously wondered if Jamal would actually get away with it.

Though…he was one to talk, Paris hadn't even started his book. There were only two rules regarding their book choice, it had to be over 150 pages and it had to be something that they hadn't read before.

This created a major problem for Paris; there were so very few books that he hadn't read, his choices were severely limited. In the end, his only hope was to invade the local library, go to any section, close his eyes and just read whatever title he had pointed at. It just so happened to be Great Expectations…the only Charles Dickenson novel he had not read.

At first Paris was overjoyed that he had found something rather quickly and would have his book report done in record time, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that that book could get him a label he had been trying to avoid, the teacher had made a big deal with Jamal had claimed Red Badge of Courage, he could only imagine what reading Great Expectations would do to him.

So, quickly Paris threw the 544 page book back on the shelf and headed for the kids section; there he settled for another book he had never read, The Thief Lord, it was about 370 some odd pages and definitely made the cut, but was just enough over to give him a bit of a challenge, since the book was full of Italian phrases; a language that he could speak a little, but knew he would have to glance over the glossary in the back of the book to refresh his memory.

Looking at his watch, Paris calculated how much time he had, the bell would ring in five minutes, he could read about 10,000 words per minute, the book had 376 pages, with 91,390 words throughout the entire book…that meant it would take him roughly 9.139 rounded up to about 10 minute…to read the entire book, but technically all he had to do was read half of that, that was 188 pages of the book,

Paris shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, his mind always went into over drive when it came to school and it created random facts that no one would really care about, luckily he knew how to keep it to himself and managed to always keep his mouth shut.

The only person in the world who knew just how smart he was had been his foster mother…well he never thought of her as his foster mother, she was his mother through and through, she was all he had ever known, not knowing anything about his birthmother, but in his mind that was all she was, his birthmother, she had given him his genes, but his real mother was Leslie Smith, the woman who had made the decision to be his foster mother when he was barely 48 hours old, had brought him home despite all the medical attention he needed at being born four months premature, who had named him, and loved him no matter what he did.

She had understood his fear of being labeled smart, she hadn't liked it and did everything she could to prove to Paris that being intelligent was a gift and something to be treasured, but she let him be his own person, to make his own decision about his own life, even if she felt the decisions were wrong, she understood the best way to let him learn was to try and fail, it was the way she could be sure he would make it in life.

Sighing, Paris closed his eyes and pictured her, Leslie had counted on every equation in childcare, she had been caring for foster kids for ten years before Paris came into her life, he was the longest foster child and the youngest she had ever cared for and had made such an impact on her that she was willing to devote the rest of her life to being someone's mother, legally as opposed to only the physical and emotional definition of the word that he had experienced his entire life. But the one part of the equation that Leslie did not factor in…her own mortality. Paris felt a tear sting his eye and quickly bit his lip to keep the tears back.

Everyone tried to keep what was going on from him, all of them underestimated his intelligence and determination to figure things out, Leslie hadn't, but she had done all in her power to keep him from knowing. She gave up custody of him, asking her best friend Lori and her cousin and Lori's husband Eric Williamson to take up care of Paris, she begged them not to let him see her, and checked herself in a hospice house, dying there a month later.

He never said goodbye, he didn't get the chance to say anything to her, even standing over her grave, which Lori Williamson brought him to, Paris was unable to find words to say, none of them seemed the right ones, especially at that moment.

All Paris could feel was rage…he hated her for not trusting him for not letting him make the one decision that mattered the most, he hated the Williamsons for carrying out her wish that he not see her on her deathbed, but the one person that Paris hated the most was himself…he hated being a kid because no one respected his opinion, no one thought he was old enough or even mature enough to decide how his life should play out, he hated how he allowed himself to be governed by the adults in his life and didn't stand up for himself each time.

Since moving in the Williamsons and losing Leslie, Paris had grown reclusive, he didn't talk to anyone more than he had to, he just kept his head down and did was he was supposed to. Hence why he was looking forward to the weekend, two full days of being by himself, least till Eric made him come out for family time

The couple had a child of their own, a daughter named Janet who was away at her sophomore year of college at the University of Utah, where she was studying psychology and sociology, so she was rarely home.

He liked it when she came home for break, for one thing, Janet had quickly slipped into the big sister routine with Paris (something she had done before he had moved in with her family and something she had only gotten better at with his joining the family) and kept updated on his life through email, he loved hearing about the classes she was taking and what college was like, but with her home it also meant that Eric and Lori were swooning over her and left him entirely alone, they didn't intentionally forget their nephew, but Paris wasn't complaining.

The coming weekend was just one of those weekends; Lori had headed off after dropping Paris off at school, it would take her six hours give or take traffic to get to Salt Lake City. Most likely they would stay overnight at a hotel so Lori wouldn't be driving for twelve hours straight. Then starting at 3:00 PM once again give or take traffic and who drove the car home… Janet would be home for spring break and that meant a week of freedom for Paris. Free to lock himself in his room and read or play video games, only emerging for school and dinner and of course for his birthday, which would probably include dinner out, cake at home, and presents from Lori, Eric, and Janet.

Paris stretched in his seat, he had four minutes now until the bell rang, plenty of time to get most of the book read before Mrs. Piper came in to start math. But as he stretched, Paris didn't pay attention to where his feet were going; Keith Brown didn't either, as he tripped over Paris's outstretched leg and hit the floor hard. Paris's eyes went wide as he scrambled up from his seat.

Keith wasn't the biggest kid in class, but he was one of the meanest, Paris and Keith had managed to avoid a meeting with one another since the school year had started in September, but it looked like Paris' number was finally up.

"Ke…Keith I'm sorry man, I wasn't paying attention." The class had gone from loud chatter to complete silence as they watched the two boys. Quickly, Paris put his hand down to help the bigger boy to his feet "are you ok?" Keith pushed Paris's hand away hard as he stood up.

"I'm a lot better than you'll be in a few seconds punk!" he said grabbing the collar of Paris' shirt and raising his fist. Instinctively, Paris scrunched up his face, preparing for the blow,

"Principal!" someone whispered loudly as everyone dove for their seats, knocking some chairs over and scrambling for his or her respective chairs.

Keith gave Paris one last glare that told Paris this was far from over and headed to his own seat a few rows back.

Sighing, Paris slid back into his own seat, fully aware of his close encounter and also fully aware that recess that day was not going to be pretty, not if Keith had anything to say about it. Maybe he could convince Mrs. Piper to keep him in for recess; he glanced down at his math homework, complete and answered to earn him at least an 80%. Causing trouble in class was not in his best interest, but maybe he could change his answers to make it at least a 50…that would catch her attention and have her keep him inside to go over the material. It had worked in first grade to give him a chance to relax during recess, instead of running from the 3rd graders who insisted on terrorizing him and the other 1st graders.

But before he could make a move to erase his answers, the door swung open; standing in the frame was an older woman whom Paris had never seen before. She had a no nonsense look about her and a by the book expression. He gulped…it was a substitute, his worst nightmare come true.

Most times he had found out about subs before they appeared in his class, it gave him a chance to give them the same speech he gave his regular teachers about his name. But he had been completely in the dark about this one; his only hope was that Mrs. Piper had written his name as Alexander in her attendance book as opposed to his legal name.

The sub walked to Mrs. Piper's desk and put her handbag on top and surveyed the class. She seemed to be able to pinpoint exactly what child would give her trouble, which ones would remain quiet, and which ones would be reliable and trustworthy enough to give her specific details about the material.

"My name is Ms. Finch, and as you might have guessed, Mrs. Piper is feeling a bit under the weather and has asked for me take her place for the duration of the day. I expect you all to be on your best behavior today, because I will not hesitate to pass on my opinion of you to Mrs. Piper, whether it be pleasant or not. I require you're undivided attention throughout the day and if all goes well, a positive report will be passed on. Mrs. Piper has written her lesson plan in great detail and we will cover everything that is written."

Ms. Finch paused and looked the class over once more, she glanced up at the loudspeaker, just as it clicked on and the principal's familiar voice echoed through it.

"Good morning Adams Elementary, will everyone please stand for the Pledge of Allegiance?" Paris followed in suit of his class as the stood, but the entire time he kept his eye on Ms. Finch, fully aware that life as an average blend in kid could soon be over.

After the pledge and morning announcements were complete, Mrs. Hesser bid everyone a pleasant day and cut off her connection to each classroom. Now Ms. Finch eyed the class again, contemplating which child to pick. She finally settled on Jessica Martin, a quiet girl whom Paris got along with pretty well, like himself, she did her best to blend in with the class and getting called on in class always made her nervous, so Paris could only imagine what thoughts were going through her head as Ms. Finch pointed a boney finger at her and gestured for her to stand up.

"Would you be so kind to tell me what Mrs. Piper does after the morning announcements?" She said in a no-nonsense tone.

"First she takes attendance, than takes a note on whose eating hot lunch or who brought their lunch. She also takes the lunch money and milk money and has someone bring it down to the office." Jessica replied, her voice shaking

"Thank you?"

"Je…Jessica,"

"Thank you Jessica, you may be seated." Ms. Finch reached into the top draw and pulled out a seating chart.

Paris's eyesight wasn't the greatest, he had glasses, but tried not to wear them if he could help it, he had yet to put his glasses on in Mrs. Piper's presence so she had not moved him to the front of the class like some of his classmates. But squinting, he recognized the chart, he had seen the ink spot in the top corner on the first day of class. He groaned, sometimes having a great memory really sucked, that seating chart was the original chart given by the school, the ink spot was from Eric Gagne's pen, it had exploded on the first day of school and had gotten on Mrs. Piper's original attendance sheet.

"Crap," Paris muttered so softly no one heard him

"Now, as I call your name please say here and raise your hand so I know where each of you are. Also to let you know I will not tolerate nicknames of any sort, your parents gave you full names for a reason and I will use your given names. If I mispronounce your name you may correct me, but nicknames will not be corrected. I would also like for you to let me know what your lunch status will be." If Paris had been sure that the name on the sheet was written down as Alexander, he might have just sat back and enjoyed the entertainment of hearing his classmates be called by their full names, but since he knew what name was on that sheet, all he could concentrate on was the pit in his stomach that was making his heart race and his body shake. The Alder twins were first to be called, no one could tell them apart, even though everyone had known them since first grade, making Paris wonder if they had switched places, like they usually did with subs. "Christian Alder?"

"Here, milk only"

"Lucas Alder?"

"It's Lucian ma'am, the school misspelled my name on the attendance record, and I just need to buy milk too." Luke spoke up, Ms. Finch nodded, glancing at the class as if to tell them that what Luke had done was what she expected from polite well behaved children.

"Samantha Blackwell?"

"Here, I'm buying lunch," the names continued on and on and when she reached Kirsten Robinson, Paris knew he was next, he bit his lip, debating on whether to answer here, tell her that it was a mistake on the record too, or just pretend that wasn't his name.

"Paris Smith?" she called out, the class looked around at one another, then at Paris…he was the only Smith in the class, but they had all known him as Xander. "Paris Smith are you here?" Slowly Paris raised his hand, he tried to give the same speech that Luke had given, but his mouth was dry and he was distracted by the whispering around him and couldn't form his words as his nerves kicked in full throttle. "Next time pay attention Mr. Smith, I will not make it a habit today of calling your name twice to get your attention." She said, "now did you bring a lunch from home or are you buying?" Paris felt his $2.25 for lunch in his pocket. "Mr. Smith I really hope you are not going to be difficult today. Your classmates have each been able to answer me promptly and directly."

"So…Sorry…I'…I brought my lunch" he lied, she nodded and made a note of that on the sheet, before moving on to Yolanda Svenent.

The whispering continued and soon gave way to giggles, despite the threatening glares from Ms. Finch; all Paris wanted to do was disappear, roll call seemed to last forever and when she finally finished, Paris tried to calm the nerves in his stomach.

Mrs. Finch surveyed the class once more and turned to Jessica, who apparently was her chosen helper of the day. Paris knew that she couldn't have picked a better kid than Jess, who was the only one not giggling and giving him funny looks.

"I would like each of you buying lunch today to please place your money in this manila folder that I am passing around, the other manila folder is for those of you buying milk only. The envelopes are clearly marked so please do not get them mixed up. Jessica, when the money is collected I would like you to bring them down to the office." Jess nodded quickly, she stole a glance over at Paris, looking at him sympathetically, before turning her attention back to Ms. Finch.

The morning did not get any better after that. When handing in his math homework, Ms. Finch quickly noticed that it was signed Xander Smith, she of course pointed it out in front of the class and made Paris write his proper name out on the sheet. This kind of thing happened for the rest of the morning, and by the time morning recess hit, Paris was ready to confront Ms. Finch about his name, she had obviously heard the giggling, she knew what he was going through…at least he hoped she did.

When the bell rang, the class jumped up and scattered towards the backdoor of their class, one of the few rooms that led directly out to the playground. Paris waited until the chaos had cleared, before heading towards Ms. Finch, nestled very comfortably at Mrs. Piper's desk.

"Um…Ms. Finch?" he said softly,

"Mr. Smith, the bell for recess did ring, you only have 15 minutes so I suggest you head outside with your classmates."

"I just…I just wanted to ask you for a favor,"

"Mr. Smith we are not friends and I am not your mother, I am your teacher I do not do favors for my students."

"It's just that, well my name is Paris, but everyone here knows me as Alex or even Xander, it's been that way since first grade, I was kind of hoping to keep Paris out of the equation."

"Mr. Smith; Alex or even Alexander is in this case at least…a nickname, your name is written down in the school records as Paris and thus I will call you Paris. Now I do not see any mention of the name Alexander on Mrs. Piper's attendance sheet, is Paris not your first name?" He wanted to lie…he wanted so badly to tell her that Paris was his middle name, maybe save some of his dignity…what was left of it anyways, but he was a horrible liar and Ms. Finch seemed to be one of those people who could easily distinguish a lie from the truth.

"No…" he finally said "no ma'am," he hadn't meant for it to come out as a no, but being truthful wasn't going to keep him from the teasing that was waiting for him outside and he was so used to denying the name Paris. Ms. Finch's face narrowed as she gave him a look that froze his insides.

"Mr. Smith I do not like being lied to, now Mrs. Piper may put up with your shenanigans regarding your name but I will not and as long as I am teaching today you will be riding on thin ice. Now…Paris, please join your classmates outside and I will make a note to inform Mrs. Piper of your behavior today."

"Bu…"

"Now Mr. Smith I will not tell you again." Ms. Finch ordered, pointing at the door, realizing he had no choice, Paris made his way to the door. Dreading each step as he stepped closer and closer and the minute his foot hit the blacktop, the teasing started.

"Sooooo" Keith's whiney voice came from his right "all this time our little Xander has actually been little Paris…how cutsie"

Paris took a deep breath and tried to ignore Keith, instead of listening, he filled his mind with math problems, figuring out the exact amount of seconds until the weekend, then till April vacation, and before he knew it, he was figuring out exactly how many seconds until his high school graduation, he would be eighteen, that was about seven years…that would be 61,320 hours…220,752,000 seconds…no was that right? It didn't sound right…he must have missed a carryover in the problem

"So what were your parents smokin' when they named you huh? I mean its one thing to be named Paris if you're a girl, but a boy? Man what a sissy! Your parents musta wanted a girl pretty bad, to bad they got stuck with a sissyboy. Bet your mom put you in little pink dresses and heels…" Keith's best friend David said, but Paris barley heard him, he was converting 61,320 hours to days…

Then when he began to hear the other kids more clearly, he turned his mind towards something stronger than his math skills, his memory skills; he began reciting Poe's the Raven, over and over in his head, it was his favorite poem and always calmed him down, _Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered we_-

"Hey Paris, was your mom some crack head too drugged up to know you were a boy or was she trying to honor Paris Hilton? Either way your mom must've been butt faced loony… what a wacko"

"Butt faced Loony? Good one Jamal," Keith said with a grin, "toldja buying that book of insults was worth it, hey, we could write our own just insultin' Paris and his screwed up mommy."

Quickly, Paris came out of his own world; he turned to Jamal…the kid who had mentioned Leslie…

Without thinking twice, Paris lunged at Jamal and Keith sending all three of them to the ground, David managed to dodge out of the way, but Paris didn't care about David, it was Jamal who had said that about Leslie.

He kicked, punched, and screamed as he attacked the bigger boys, he didn't care how beat up he got, he didn't care what would happen to him at all…Jamal had crossed the line talking about Leslie, and Paris would get in as many shots as possible before the yard monitor realized what was happening.

Some of the other kids from their class and a couple from the sixth grade classes came over and tried to pull Paris off of Jamal and Keith, but he was kicking so much that every time they got near him, he kicked them.

It took nearly a minute for the yard teachers to finally get to the boys, after pushing through the herd of onlookers.

Mr. Galloway the gym teacher who had been at the kickball field with some third graders, reached Paris first and lifted him up off of Keith and held him in the air as he struggled to get back at Keith, meanwhile Mrs. Yolkes a 6th grade teacher and Mr. Forrester the other fifth grade teacher helped Keith and Jamal to their feet.

Jamal's face was covered in blood, but it wasn't his own, it was Paris's, Keith had managed to nail Paris right in the nose, before the smaller boy had started the kicking; Keith himself had tears in one eye, because the other eye was beginning to swell shut.

"What is going on here?" Mr. Forrester yelled looking at directly at Paris, Mr. Galloway lowered Paris to the ground so he could talk, but he had nothing to say, he wiped his bleeding nose on his arm and sniffed back his tears "well?"

Paris took a deep breath, he looked at the three teachers, than at his classmates, Jess was staring at him, as if she was frightened of her friend, Paris then glanced at the gate just down the playground, without even rethinking it…he took off running.

The teachers were so surprised that it took them a second or two to give chase, Paris didn't know where he was running to, but he knew he was not staying at school. He hit the gate and threw it open and took off down the street, Mr. Galloway almost caught him, but the gate he slammed into bounced back and hit Mr. Galloway square in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him, by the time he recovered his breath, Paris had disappeared down the street, leaving everyone on the playground stunned, and leaving the teachers to rush into the school to get some extra help. Mr. Galloway had a feeling where Paris would go, and while the other faculty members were frantic, Mr. Galloway, a long time friend of Eric Williamson, called his friend, hoping that Eric would have a better idea of where Paris might head.

* * *

><p>AN: Ok probably should have mentioned this in the first chapter. I have never been to Las Vegas, so any references to the city was done with research online and speaking to friends who have gone, but mainly online. So if anyone from Nevada is reading this and spots an error whatever it may be, I apologize! Thank you for the reviews I have already received I appreciate all of them!


	3. Chapter 3

March 9TH, 2006

FBI Jet, in air just over Kentucky.

Hotch: "_There is no trust more sacred than the one the world holds with children. There is no duty more important than ensuring that their rights are respected, that their welfare is protected, that their lives are free from fear and want and that they can grow up in peace_." Secretary-General Kofi Annan, United Nations

* * *

><p>Morgan shifted in his seat and looked around the jet at his fellow agents, before picking up a school photo of Gracie Newton.<p>

"Why kids?" He finally said,

"Statistically" Reid spoke up, "kids are some of the easiest targets of violent crimes; kids who are considered different from their peers, raise that percentage even more, their often loners and most likely be by themselves…and more likely to gravitate to an adult they can relate to who they feel understands them."

"I was being rhetorical Reid," Morgan pointed out

"Right, sorry"

"Anyways, I've been pouring over these, one of these kids was in foster care, one was in foster care from six months to a year old and was adopted just before his first birthday, and the other three came from stable homes." Elle spoke up

"Stable in the sense that they had had a place to live," JJ pointed out "from what friends and relatives have told the police, none of them really came from happy homes, Josie Marshal was the one exception to that, but her school life easily countered her protective and well balanced home life." She paused and laid three of the photos out on the table, "Mike King was 14, he's the oldest of the victims, according to his father, they had an argument which had become a daily occurrence and he took off."

"What was the argument about?"

"Sports," JJ said "apparently Mr. King wanted Mike to join the football team and Mike took off to avoid the argument and criticism escalating any further."

"He was found at a bookstore?" Reid noted looking over the report

"Sitting off in a corner, the owner didn't even think twice about him being there, apparently Mike was in the store nearly every day, off in the same corner reading. The owner was planning on hiring him on a part-time basis." JJ said softly

"The other non-foster care victim beside Gracie Newton and Mike King; was 10 year old Josie Marshal. No one connected her to the other victims at first," Hotch called across the jet

"She came from a happy family, two devoted parents, one younger sister with whom she was very close with, by all appearances a very happy 10 year old." JJ read from the file,

"If she was happy than what, He made a mistake? Snatched the wrong kid?" Morgan asked… a confused look on his face.

"No one could give police anything concrete that put Josie in the same category as the other victims. It wasn't until they finally talked with the little sister; apparently Josie's school life wasn't as happy and cut and clean as her home life. She was bullied by her classmates and humiliated by them on more than one occasion." Elle read from the file

"Where was the school in all this?" Morgan asked, JJ sighed and shrugged,

"Apparently they weren't aware of the teasing, Josie never complained to anyone except her sister. So no one knew there was an issue" She said. Reid shook his head, clearing his thoughts away.

"No matter how the educational system changes and grows, one thing always stays the same, the constant need of kids to torment each other." Gideon noted; everyone nodded in agreement.

A few moments of silence passed between the agents, when suddenly, JJ's phone went off, she picked it up and flipped it open.

"Agent Jareau…yes….yes…thank you I'll let them know. I'll call as soon as we land." JJ hung up her phone and looked at everyone, "another child was just reported missing, a ten year old boy. He was last seen running from the playground of Adams Elementary school, after getting into a fight with his classmates." Morgan, Reid, and Elle all exchanged a look, they looked over at Hotch and Gideon, who looked at one another, JJ however took a deep breath before continuing, "Guys…this boy…he's the nephew of Captain Williamson, the head detective on the case."


	4. Chapter 4

March 9th 2006

10:36 AM

Las Vegas, Nevada

* * *

><p>The minute the team touched down, they were off and running on the case. Elle and Morgan headed to the dump site of the last victim, while JJ, Hotch, Gideon and Reid headed to Northeast Area command unit, Eric Williamson's district and the area were two of the kids had gone missing from.<p>

They were greeted by a young officer, who was understandably frantic, he directed them to Captain Frances. It seemed that all the officers were doing what they could to gather evidence and keep Eric Williamson as distracted as possible, because the young officer did not point his commander out.

Williamson's friend and fellow captain from the Downtown district, Greg Frances was co-leading the case, though Grant Dennerson had gone missing from the Northeast District and lived there, he had been found within Frances's limits, so like the other Captains and detectives in the city, he felt connected to it and was determined to bring the bastard in at all costs, even if that meant asking the FBI for help.

So when the team walked in, he was on his feet in a second and at the door to greet them, the stress was written on his face, after nearly two months of chasing their tails and getting nowhere, Frances was very happy to see the FBI. He appeared to be in his late 50s, though the stress of his job had obviously added on a few years, so his real age was probably in his mid 40s, his hair was beginning to grey, but he appeared to not be stuck in his age, and JJ could register a guess that when he wasn't chasing down murderers he was probably a fun loving guy.

"You must be Agent Jareau," Frances said picking JJ out, he had a strong Texan accent and had no problem showing his Texan pride, "I'm Captain Greg Frances, wish it was under better circumstances, but y'all have no idea how glad we are to see you people." He shook JJ's hand gently and turned to Hotch,

"This is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner," JJ introduced

"Captain Frances, I'm…well at the moment I'm in charge of the investigation." He nodded over his shoulder to a tall, grey haired Captain staring at a map, he was rubbing his chin and had a look of fear plastered on his face and Hotch could only guess that this was Williamson, the man in charge of the investigation and more importantly the latest child's uncle. "Eric…FBI's here," Williamson turned around and faced the agents, he slowly walked over to them, reaching Hotch first, he stuck out his hand

"Captain Eric Williamson, thank you for coming."

"I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner, this is SA Jennifer Jareau, media liaison." He turned to Reid and Gideon as they entered and introduced each of them.

"Has the media been notified about your nephew's disappearance?" JJ mentioned, Eric exchanged a look with Greg, "an Amber alert?"

"We've been trying to limit media attention with this case, for the sake of the families and to keep panic down to a minimum; we were waiting for your lead." Frances finally said "the press has been having a field day with this, and we're having trouble reining it in. This was the headline after they found Josie Marshal" he held up a newspaper, the headlines read _another child found dead, the in-competency of LVMPD brought out into the open, how many more of our children have to die before something is done._

"We've got officers working day in and out on this case, most of them have kids of their own so their putting all their strength into finding this guy, but we're fresh out of ideas and are running out of hope."

"But what about your nephew?" JJ repeated

"Paris took off from school this morning after getting in a fight, we've got officers canvassing the area, he hasn't been kidnapped, he simply took off. He'll turn up, he always does, this isn't new, he does this…" Williamson said loudly, "again thank you for coming, now if you'll excuse me, I've got a real case, Greg here can show you around and get you settled, anything you need, our station is yours." And with that the captain turned his attention back to the board that was filled with details about the case.

Hotch, Gideon, Reid, and JJ all exchanged a look before looking at Frances for an explanation.

"Eric's usually a lot more pleasant, he's just stressed." Frances paused and rubbed his chin "and he's right about Paris. He's a good kid, but he's going through a tough time, this isn't the first time he's taken off, first time from school, but unfortunately this is becoming a weekly occurrence."

"Any idea why?" Gideon asked

"A million of 'em, and all of 'em work," Frances looked over at Williamson, before looking back at the team "come on, I'll show you where y'all can set up."


	5. Chapter 5

The ground crunched under his feet as Paris made his way through the crowded cemetery, crowded with headstones that is…not people…there wasn't another living soul in sight, not even the groundskeepers…it had been over two hours since he had taken off and he was wondering why no one had found him yet. Mr. Galloway certainly knew where he would go, but here he was with no one around. Not that he cared, Paris needed to be alone and what better place than among the dead.

Speaking of dead, Eric was going to kill him when he heard about his taking off, not just taking off, but taking off after attacking his classmates; there was definitely a grounding in his future, not to mention the lip he was going to get from the principal. The words 'how could you be that stupid' and 'what were you thinking' came to mind.

Maybe he'd be expelled, after all, ditchin' school usually earned a detention, and fighting could end in suspension, and Paris had managed both… It didn't matter why he had gone after them, no one would care about that, Jamal and Keith had only used words…Paris had used his fists.

He felt bad…he really did; not about Keith and Jamal, but about how this would affect Eric, who was stressed out enough with that case involving the missing kids; no one knew that Paris was fully aware of the case, and he knew that there was a good chance everyone would think the same thing had happened to him.

He sighed, that figured, even more added onto his screw up, more reason for Eric and Lori to hate him, more reason for everyone to hate him.

Paris wiped a tear away; Leslie probably hated him too, she would be so ashamed of him…but none of this would've happened if she hadn't died, their life was going fine… Quickly Paris shook his head; he couldn't blame Leslie, not ever.

This was his fault, not Leslie's…this would've happened regardless of her death, she had been right…being ashamed of his name was stupid…and Paris realized…it was like being ashamed of her, the words from Keith and Jamal had hurt and had been about her, but that had just been an attack on him through her…they had figured out a way to really hit a nerve and had done so…

Paris had done something far worse, by pretending his name wasn't Paris and constantly mentioning that his name embarrassed him, he had hurt Leslie, she may never had said anything, but he realized now that his entire life he had done nothing, but hurt her, all to protect himself from what he was afraid of something that could easily have been dealt with. The tears came faster, reaching the point where his sight was a just one big blur, he wiped them away as furiously as possible, but stopping them just wasn't happening.

He wasn't even sure how he reached the grave he was looking for, his whole purpose of going to the cemetery…but somehow…he did he always did, he could make the walk from the gate to the grave blindfolded.

Standing over Leslie's headstone, Paris felt his emotions reach the brink…he always tried not to show them, he knew showing emotions was strategically not in his best interest.

He learned that in second grade when one of his friends started crying because he had fallen off the slide and skinned his knee. Now, this was something that anybody could cry over, the cut wasn't deep, but skinned anything hurt, especially knees, but unfortunately no one else seemed to remember that fact as Paris watched, learning that the cruelty of human beings is best played out in the schoolyard.

Before anyone could stop it, his friend was being teased relentlessly for crying and it didn't stop when the bell rang ending recess, nor did it stop for the rest of the school year, in fact it only stopped because his friend took matters into his own hands…he became the same as those who had tormented him, he became one of the meanest kids in the school…Keith was no longer Paris's best friend, but the school bully, someone EVERY kid in the school feared, even the older kids.

Shaking his head, Paris sat down on the grass facing the headstone, despite the heat in the air around him, the ground felt cool and comforting. If he closed his eyes, he could feel Leslie hugging him tight, the heat in the air became the warmth of her arms holding him close, telling him that she loved him and always would, no matter what he did or how old he became or who his birth parents were, he would always be her baby.

Keeping his eyes closed tight, he drifted back to different memories; they're trip to the Grand Canyon, the trip to Disney World when he was seven, a trip that Leslie had literally saved for years for them to take with the Williamsons, or they're summer road-trip to the Soccer Hall of Fame in Oneonta, New York the summer before their world came crashing down around them; it was the longest trip Leslie's poor '98 Chevy Cavalier had ever taken, it was at least a two day trip driving straight, but Leslie had wanted Paris to really see the country and the trip took about five days, Leslie was completely surprised that the car made as far as Colorado, but not only did it make it to New York, it easily made it home, and it was also the best time either one of them had ever had.

Even the memories that were not big trips, stood out in his mind; like watching movies, going out to dinner with other foster families they were friends with, her cheering on his soccer team, a passion he had given up when Leslie died, but his favorite memory…was her reading to him, every night since he could remember and long before that, Leslie would read him to sleep, she would read parts of the Odyssey and the Iliad, sometimes scenes from Shakespeare plays, but mostly…she read the Raven.

Paris couldn't get enough of the poem and even though he could read it pretty well by himself by the time he was 3 ½ and had it memorized word for word by the time he was four, listening to Leslie read it to him as he fell asleep was comforting, and always helped him to drift peacefully to sleep.

Even now, if he thought about it hard enough, Paris could hear her reciting the poem, as the wind rustled the trees, eerily scratching and creaking against one another. If there was one thing that Leslie enjoyed more than classic stories, it was ghost stories, she loved a good scare.

During nights when a rare storm ravaged outside, her and Paris would stay up telling scary stories, seeing who would get scared first; when he was younger, Leslie always went easy on him, trying to avoid the nightmares she was sure would come in the middle of the night, but she quickly learned that Paris's eidetic memory allowed him to be able to recite some of the most frightening stories told throughout history, and by the time he was seven she stopped going easy on him, scaring him was getting difficult because he knew most of the stories and he got a kick out of give his mom a good fright.

Taking a deep breath, Paris knew he should be turning himself into Eric and face the wrath that was coming, but he wasn't ready, instead he wiped his eyes with his arm and adjusted himself so he was sitting Indian style facing Leslie's headstone.

"Ok mom, I've got a good one for you…" he said, forcing out a grin "betcha you haven't heard this one and you can pretend all you want, but I know you'll be scared of this story. 'Cause its true and I can prove this one" he paused and picked a blade of grass, tying it into a tight knot "so this guy checked into the MGM grand for a weekend of gambling, didn't tell anyone he was taking the trip…he was from New Jersey, but he had been kicked out of Atlantic City for counting cards in blackjack. He used a fake name and everything, he was hoping to strike it big at the blackjack table that weekend…So the weekend was going well, he was making the biggest payout MGM had seen in decades. But of course security caught on and realized he was counting the cards. But 'fore they could catch him, he grabbed his winnings and bolted to his room.

"Security was coming fast ready to give this guy the pounding he was asking for. He knew he was trapped; he had all his winnings, almost 900,000 dollars in chips from the MGM and more from other casinos on the strip. He could hear security coming down the hall, stomping their feet loudly as they ran, he had two choices, give up or go over the balcony and try to make it to another room on a lower level…but before he could choice, he felt something grab him and the money and push him over the balcony to the street below. Security heard his screams and kicked the door open…it had been locked from the inside, they had distinctly heard him screaming 'who are you, what do you want, no, no.' but the room was searched and no one was inside." Paris shivered, he was giving himself the chills, but he had seen this story on Haunted Vegas a DVD he had borrowed from the library a week or so back and he knew that local ghost stories were Leslie's favorite…if she could hear him from wherever she was, she would love this story.

"Come to find out, the guy from Jersey wasn't the first cheater to meet his end. No one is sure who the ghost is…but people have reported odd things happening at the MGM, things disappearin, people ending up dead, or people scared into confessing that they didn't win their money honestly. It's been documented mom, you never know…Oh…the money and chips that went over the balcony with the guy? Of course people swarmed to grab some, but each one of them turned it over to the police no more than two days later." Paris grinned wider and cocked his head "how was that one? Probably not as good as your Myrtle Plantation story, but I think that was one of my best…but yeah, definitely not as good as the Myrtle one…remember I had nightmares for a week after you told me that one?" he paused "someday, you said we'd stay at the plantation, maybe someday I will, when I turn eighteen. I've started saving my allowance, 'fore I go to college that'll be my summer trip, all the places in our stories; Myrtles, Winchester Mystery House, maybe even up to Massachusetts, go to Fall River to the Lizzie Borden House and to Salem. I know you wanted me to go to a top college, especially one of the old ones, maybe I'll go to Harvard…or even Brown, some top college like that…I hate the heat. I think I'd be happier up north, New England's cold and I'd finally get to see a real snow storm."

"Paris Smith?" a voice came from behind him, Paris felt his heart jump as he turned around to face the person who had called his name, he hadn't expected anyone to find him or come looking for him for that matter. "Boy, you in a heap of trouble…"


	6. Chapter 6

March 9th 2006

10:54 AM

Grand Gamers Domain, Las Vegas Strip, Las Vegas, Nevada

* * *

><p>Morgan and Elle surveyed the arcade spread out before them. The place itself was huge, the size of a typical Las Vegas Casino, but overflowing with videogames and Elle could easily picture the place full of kids and adults playing the games, it was a kid's paradise, slightly smaller in square footage than the famous Gameworks arcade, just down the street, the Grand Gamers Domain was just as popular as its rival. It would be loud with screaming and dinging of games, explaining how no one noticed Grant Dennerson entering the arcade with the unsub and how his body wasn't noticed at first.<p>

"You must be the BAU folks?" A wiry looking cop sprang towards them, "Joel Kenney, at your service."

"Agents Morgan and Greenaway," Morgan said flashing their badges

"Hope you guys can wrap this part fast…the owners are none to happy about having to be closed like this, four days of being closed has really made them…well a little testy, and that's puttin' it lightly."

"They do realize that a 13 year old boy was found murdered on their property?"

"Of course they do, but you don't know how these guys operate, time is money, being closed like this with anxious customers wanting to come in is hurting their bank accounts. Though they assured me they don't mean to be unsympathetic to the kid's family. But 'pprently a dead foster kid is bad for business." Ell shook her head glaring at no one in particular; she felt that keeping her opinion to herself at the moment was in everyone's best interest.

Morgan walked over to the spot where Grant's body had been found; he stood over it piecing together his thoughts. He turned to Kenney

"Security cameras?" he asked, Kenney nodded

"'Course, we pulled every tape from every angle, we've been over them a few times now. You folks are more than welcome to pour over them yourselves; we got 'em back at the command center we've got set up at Norster,"

"Norster?" Morgan repeated

"Northeast District of the city, everyone just calls it Norster," Kenney paused scratching his chin "Captain Williamson has been putting his whole heart into this investigation, it was only fitting that all info passed through his unit. Two of the kids came from his area of the city…I guess he feels responsible, least that's what everyone's been saying, personally I think it's just 'cause Norster's station was renovated last summer an' has the newest facilities."

Morgan and Elle exchanged a look, both wondering if the rest of the team was getting that same impression from Williamson himself. Kenney cleared his throat

"Something else?" Elle asked

"I can tell you what we've gathered from the videos, I have been watching those videos over and over again for the past two days and nothing looks out of place, Grant Dennerson came into the arcade with who we're sure is our suspect about 10:30, it's the arcades busiest time of the morning so we're talkin' full house here, actually seeing Grant was tough…there's at least an hour time frame where he's at different games throughout that hour, mainly stickin' to that skeet-ball machine over yonder…Then from about 11:30…12:00ish on, none of the camera's have any images of Grant or the suspect. Three hours later, someone finally noticed Grant, sittin' off in the corner, just out of camera view."

"So none of the cameras saw this guy leave the arcade?"

"That's just it…this guy is smart, he knew exactly where the camera's were pointed and kept himself just outta view."

"I thought you said the entrance camera caught Grant coming in with the UnSub?" Kenney shook his head

"I said that ya can see Grant coming into the arcade with who we're sure is this guy, but all ya can see is a hand on his shoulder, like I said stayed outta view just enough." Morgan and Elle exchanged another look, that figured.

"And you're telling us that there is only ONE camera in the entrance?"

"Naw 'course not…there's three or four, but none of them seemed to get more than a hand or a shoulder." Kenney rubbed his chin, "this guy was good, an' smart." He paused, like he had more to say, but wasn't sure if he should.

"What?" Elle prodded "something else?"

"Well, I'm…I'm no expert in the subject, but me an' some other officers have been going over them tapes, and well, you'll see it when your people look 'em over too. But we think that Grant was drugged or somethin'." Elle looked over at Morgan in surprise

"What makes you say that?" she asked

"Well, Grant Dennerson had that ADHD thing…on top of his behavior problems, that boy couldn't sit still for thirty seconds, and yet…he walked into this arcade….calm and mature and even went to the games the same way…I've seen adults walk in here and run 'round like kids, like they've reconnected with their youth or something, but Grant was the completely opposite." Kenney crossed his arms "I've been on the force 15 years, I've seen how druggies and addicts act when their flying high…Agents…this kid he was walkin' into the games, hell he could barely stand let 'lone walk 'round here, …our suspect was supportin' him, helpin' him along. I don't know 'bout you, an' you'll see what I mean when ya see the tapes, but I know he drugged that kid…drugged him before he brought him here."

Morgan was about to answer, when his phone rang, he glanced over at Elle and Kenney before answering it.

"Yeah…ok…we'll be right there." He looked over at Elle "Hotch wants us back, now"


	7. Chapter 7

The entire ride from the cemetery was spent contemplating his options. Paris knew he had two choices, both with the same end result; he could admit his stupidity to Eric and face the severe consequences, or he could play on the sympathy spectrum; apologize and hope that he could soften Eric up…then face the consequences, which might end up being safer than the first proposition.

The officer that had found him hadn't spoken a word since the cemetery, but that was ok with Paris, because it gave him a chance to plan his words carefully. At first he had been suspicious of the lone officer who had managed to find him, even if tracking him shouldn't have been that difficult, at least not for those who knew him; this guy had to be new, or at least new to Paris, because he hadn't recognized him, his badge had said he was from the South central area of Vegas; so many officers from the other districts had joined forces with Eric's team to find the guy who had killed all those kids; rumor had it, Eric had even called in the FBI for help to catch the guy responsible.

Paris sighed, four of kids he had never met and didn't know at all, but Grant was a different story…he was a few years older than Paris, but they were friends; even best friends.

Grant was a foster kid too, but while the Williamsons were only Paris's second foster family in his life and were technically his family to begin with because of Leslie, the Kilbourns were Grant's fourth foster family.

According to Grant, the other three just hadn't liked him, but Paris was good at reading people, he knew the real reason, Grant's obvious ADHD and difficulty taking criticism, and overall temper made him tough to place.

Of course, Paris never said this out loud, especially not to Grant, he had no business creating a psychological profile on his friends…Grant had trouble keeping friends, the only reason him and Paris got along so well aside from their being part of the glorious foster care system, was the fact that both boys knew which buttons would instigate the other and made sure to avoid hitting them.

Not to mention, Grant was more like a big brother to Paris than anything else. They looked out for each other, whenever Grant needed help with schoolwork, Paris was there to give him a hand and if Paris needed someone to shoot soccer balls off of or needed someone to vent to, Grant was there.

Paris rubbed the back of his neck, he had seen Grant, standing outside his school and he had looked like he needed someone to talk to, and if the bus driver hadn't chosen that particular moment to lurch the bus away from the school, Paris would have been off that bus in nanosecond and walked home with Grant, they lived just two streets over from one another, well two streets from where Paris had lived with Leslie, the distance was a bit further now, Paris now lived further from the schools a good five miles, the Kilbourn's lived just down the street from it, but finding out if Grant was ok would have been worth the long walk home. And if he had been with Grant…Paris shook his head trying to put the what-if thoughts out of his head, at least for now.

The screeching of brakes brought Paris back from his thoughts, as the cop pulled into a parking spot in front of the station. Paris took a deep breath as he slipped out of the car; maybe he could block Eric's ranting out this time, all he had to do was focus on a book…any book at this point would work.

The officer put a hand on Paris's shoulder and guided him through the front door, Eric's officers acknowledged Paris as he walked past them, none of them looked particularly grim, no more than usual lately, this could be a good sign, he'd have to wait until he saw Eric himself.

The main bullpen was packed with officers, some he recognized, but most were new faces; but it was the small group not dressed in uniforms that caught his attention, there were five of them, at least.

One was dressed in a suit and tie, definitely FBI; he was talking to Eric's fellow captain Greg Frances, Paris shook his head a little raising an eyebrow at the agent; Paris was drenched in sweat and he was use to the heat, even though he really hated it; and he could not understand how the agent could be in that suit and not be uncomfortable; even with the air-conditioning running, the bullpen of the station was still sauna like.

Paris continued his glances, trying to mark who was FBI; there was an older guy who was staring at the bulletin board intently, Paris didn't have his glasses on so he couldn't really see what the guy was looking at, but it did look like a few photo and if Paris enjoyed betting, he'd say that they were the pictures of the crime scenes.

Just across the room, a blonde woman was talking quickly on her phone and handing manila folders to different people, she nodded to a black haired woman and an muscular guy in a black tee-shirt, he may not have been dressed in an official looking suit…but he definitely looked FBI, so did the woman with the black hair, just by their mannerism.

Just off to the side of them was a younger guy who was putting different colored thumbtacks into a map of the city, if any of the agents didn't look the part it was this guy, if anything he looked like he should be at a college, not just 'cause he looked about the same age as Janet, but because he was dressed like he belonged at some prep school, but, there was also something familiar about him that Paris couldn't place and couldn't shake, but he was mainly curious about the tacks.

Paris looked past the FBI for a second trying to locate Eric, he needed to get a feel for what thoughts were going through Eric's head before he came charging over ready to lay down the third degree.

Finally he spotted him, standing in the doorway of his office. Paris took a deep breath, so Eric was waiting for him, he figured he would be, but a closer look would tell Paris exactly what he could expect.

Eric's arms were crossed, so he was definitely mad, but Paris looked closer at his face, his uncle's face told a different story then his body language, his face had a look of relief where there was once concern.

Eric may be mad at what Paris had done, but he was more relieved than anything else, something that definitely worked in Paris's favor.

Paris took a deep breath and walked slowly towards Eric. The agents all looked at him as he passed them. When he reached Eric, the captain didn't say a word; instead he pointed inside his office and followed Paris inside, shutting the door behind him.

For the first few minutes, Eric still didn't say anything; he sat down at his desk and gestured for Paris to take one of the other chairs. The clock on his desk ticking was the only sound in the office, aside from Paris's sneakers hitting the wooden chair.

"Er…Uncle Eric…I'm" Paris started to say, then stopped before trying to speak again, "I just wan-"

"Paris, stop for a second. Let me talk you are just going to sit and listen." Eric interrupted "Now you did two really stupid things today, you got into a fight with your classmates and you ran away from the problem…not just that you took off from school and no one knew where you were. In case you haven't noticed, nearly all of Las Vegas PD is running around the city and the rest of them are in this station, not to mention the FBI is outside this room, what do you think is going on?" Eric paused staring Paris down "Paris I know you know all about this case, I may not be able to read 10,000 words a minute, but that doesn't mean I'm blind and it doesn't mean I don't know what's going on in my own house. You're a smart kid Paris, but taking off when you know all this is going on was the stupidest thing you have ever done."

"I know…" Paris replied "and I'm sorry," Eric sighed, he stood up and walked over to Paris's seat, he knelt down so he was eyelevel with his nephew

"Normally I don't care why, but I think this time why is exactly what I need to hear, what pissed you off so much that you attacked those guys? I know Keith is a real bully, but you usually stay out of his way." At first Paris didn't say anything; in fact he didn't want to say anything. But he realized that Eric was giving him a chance to tell his side, in fact, if Paris didn't know better he would say that Eric was more concerned that Paris was all right, than the fact he had gotten into a fight at school and run off. "Well?"

"We had a sub today…and well she called me Paris…not Xander," Eric sat down on his desk, he looked like he wanted to make a comment, but decided just to let Paris explain himself "so, when we went out to recess, Jamal and Keith started teasin' me about my name." Eric rubbed his temple

"Please don't tell me you attacked them because they teased you. That's only sinking down to their idiotic level."

"It wasn't that…I was fine with ignoring them."

"Then what happened?"

"They started making fun of me by using mom. Then Jamal asked if she was some crack head too addicted to k….to know I was a boy. He called her butt faced loony and a wacko." Paris looked down at his feet "I don't care if they make fun of me. I can ignore 'em, but they had no right…no reason to go after mom. I couldn't help it" Eric sighed again that made perfect sense to him, but he didn't want Paris think he agreed with fighting or running away, even though he understood Paris's reasoning now, and maybe just maybe would have done the same thing, had he been Paris's age and in the boy's shoes.

"Paris, it's just words…words may hurt emotionally, remember what mom used to tell you when you were little, Aunt Lori and I have said it too: Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me? Do you remember that at all?"

"'Course I do, but that little rhyme was made up by the bullies to compensate for their crud actions and you said it yourself: words do hurt…they hurt emotionally and that's just as bad as punching someone in the face maybe even worse wounds heal words stay with you." Paris replied smartly.

Eric rolled his eyes and chose to ignore that comment, mainly because he saw Paris's point, but wasn't going to admit that.

"But even then," he continued "it's no reason to attack someone; they read you like a book, pal and did it pretty easily. It's not that hard to ignore bullies, and it's not that hard to ignore idiots like them."

"Maybe to you" Eric rolled his eyes again he did that a lot when talking to Paris, he reached under his desk and pulled out Paris's backpack "I'll apologize for runnin' away and for fighting, but I refuse to apologize to Jamal and Keith…they go first, that's my condition." Paris crossed his arms refusing to continue on with his explanation and also refused to negotiate the matter any further.

"Here," Eric said tossing Paris his backpack "you've been suspended for two days anyways technically three counting today, but that doesn't mean you get a vacation from your homework." Paris stared at his bag then looked up at Eric obviously confused "Nick Galloway dropped it off about twenty minutes ago, after he called me to let me know where you had gone." Paris peeked inside his bag, double checking his stuff,

"How come only two?" he inquired "I mean when Keith got into a fight back in September he was suspended for a week."

"Paris, how many times do I have to tell you? …Don't look a gift horse in the mouth,"

"Yeah, well you also said when in doubt ask."

"Er…right I did say that one." Eric stroked his graying beard "basically it's your first offense, and second, one of your classmates told Mrs. Hesser that Keith and Jamal instigated the attack by teasing you and a number of other students backed her up on that," Paris gave a half grin, had to have been Jess, she was the only one who would've stood up for him like that. "Anyways, you're stuck here for the next few hours, Lori went to go pick Janet up, she promised to call when she gets to Salt Lake,"

"Does she know?"

"Nope, I didn't think telling her that you were suspended for fighting and truancy over the phone while she's driving was such a good idea. We are going to talk about it though so don't get your hopes up that this will all go away. I'm here for a good few hours, and so are you, hopefully I can get you home and in bed at a decent hour tonight, but if we're still workin' on this, your gonna have to crash in bunker room."

Paris made a face. Nicknamed the bunker-room, it was an extra storage room of the station, that had a couple cots amongst the boxes, old computers and other random junk that no one could stand to throw out, but didn't want cluttering up the station itself.

Paris had slept there once before and the thought of sleeping in there again wasn't a high point on his list, it creeped him out in there, even for a kid who liked spooky things and loved being scared the noises and the dimmed lights, made it resemble an old deserted hospital to much for Paris's liking; not to mention it smelt funny like a mix between cleaning supplies, old sneakers, and three months old tuna fish sandwich, the source of the last one was something he had yet to find and at this point wasn't sure he wanted to find.

He sighed and he looked over his shoulder towards the window, the blinds were half closed, so he could see out into the bullpen. The FBI was still milling around, the older guy however met his gaze; they had this staring contest for about five seconds, before Paris finally looked away, turning back to Eric.

"So how close are they to giving a profile?" Paris asked, Eric raised an eyebrow, he knew that Paris was well informed on the case, despite his best efforts to keep it from him, but knowing why the FBI was there was not information his ten year old nephew could have gotten so easily; he crossed his arms and looked at Paris expectantly "what? They don't look like typical FBI; all of them just scream profilers…especially the guy in the suit and the guy lookin' at the pictures, their BAU Behavioral Analysis Unit, right, from Quantico?" Eric nodded; Paris chewed his thumb nail a bit "the pictures, those are of the kids aren't they?" Eric sighed and nodded

"Yes" he replied and as if reading Paris's mind "and yes Grant's picture is one of them." Paris put his head down taking a deep breath. "I was really hoping to keep you out of this Paris, even more so because of Grant." Eric looked out the window at his officers before turning back to Paris "but, I think one of them may want to talk to you,"

Paris raised an eye brow

"Why me? What can I possibly offer 'em that they don't already have?"

"You were Grant's best friend Paris, you knew him best, their trying to get to know the kids, to get an understanding on why each one of these kids…" his voice trailed off

"Why each one of them was killed? 'cause that will help build a substantial profile and narrow down whose doing it?"

Eric patted Paris's shoulder

"That's what we're hoping" he paused "let me go talk to them first ok? Start your homework, your friend Jess wrote down the assignments for you."

Eric walked out of his office, and Paris followed him, poking his head out of the office to listen to the agents. He had been fascinated by the FBI since he was little; from the founding of the FBI, to the induction of the BAU, originally the Behavioral Science Unit; he thought it was an amazing occupation and read every book he could get his hands on about the Bureau, especially the BAU, the idea of profiling made the career just that much more appealing. Paris was already excellent at reading people he could profile those around him with ease, he knew that there was more to being a profiler, much more, but he also knew that it was a necessary requirement for the unit.

He put his head down thinking, knowing the FBI was right outside the door reminded him that this coming summer was supposed to be his and Leslie's trip to Washington DC, actually, Grant would've gone with them, since Leslie was good friends with Grant's foster family, they had no problem giving permission for him to go with Leslie and Paris on the trip; it would have been a two week long trip, flying to Virginia for a few days in Williamsburg and Busch Gardens and also Jamestown so Paris could see all the preparations being done for the quadricentennial which would be the following year, before driving up to the Nation's Capital for the remainder of the two weeks visiting all the museums, the prominent buildings, and her main reason for the trip, the FBI building; it had been technically closed to tours in 1999, but one part of the building was designed for free public tours, you just had to catch it on the right day.

Leslie had always encouraged his interest in the Bureau and had hoped that an interest in it would alter his negative perception on being extremely intelligent; she hoped someone at the building would have some kind of impact on him, though he just had hoped to talk to someone about what he would need to do to reach that goal.

Hearing his name brought Paris back to reality; apparently Eric was discussing him with some of the agents.

"Wait…Paris? As in the city?" the agent in the tee shirt asked, Paris rolled his eyes, that retort was typical, the best guesses people could come up with in regards to his name was he was either named for the capital of France or for Paris Hilton, no one ever seemed to remember the epic poem written by Homer about the Trojan War. He did appreciate the agent not saying as in Paris Hilton though, but he was fully prepared to set the agents straight, give them a chance to profile him and he them.

Taking a deep breath and pushing his long bangs back, Paris stepped out of the office, he was shaking with nerves a little, he hated talking to new people…but he had to do this. With that thought on his mind, he took one more deep breath and spoke up

"No, as in Prince Paris of Ancient Troy from Homer's Iliad; abandoned as an infant by his father King Priam on the side of Mount Idea, after being told by an oracle that Paris would bring about the destruction of Troy. He was raised by shepherds and won favor with his father by winning an athletic tournament conducted by the king. He's best known for an event that triggered the Trojan War; his wooing and kidnapping of Helen, wife of Spartan king Meleaus. Before he was killed himself in a battle, Paris defeated the supposedly indestructible Greek hero Achilles, he killed Achilles with a single arrow, under the guidance of the Goddess Aphrodite, who aided the arrow to the hero's heel, the one place he was considered most vulnerable." Paris paused trying not to grin at the fact everyone was staring at him wide eyed, even the cops who knew him were staring "it's a great story, so's the Odyssey." He gave a short chuckle and shrugged as Eric rolled his eyes again and shook his head laughing a little.

"If you guys couldn't guess, that would be Paris…my walking encyclopedia of random factoids," the officers who knew Paris all laughed, so did some of the agents, including the one who had guessed the origin of his name.

"Sounds like someone we know," he mentioned looking over his shoulder at the guy with the tacks, who turned and raised his eyebrows.

"Nothing I say is ever random. Every fact I have ever given is completely relevant to whatever discussion happens to be occurring." Paris's grin widened, he turned to Officer Gage, a rookie, whose younger sister used to baby-sit for Paris when he lived with Leslie "including the lifespan of your computer if you continue to let it run with an outdated security system, no firewall, and keep refusing to back up your files on an external hard drive."

Gage grinned and pushed Paris gently

"Smart ass," he said amused, Eric gestured for Paris to come closer, which he did, he gestured to each of the agents in turn as he introduced them

"Paris, these are Agents Morgan, Greenaway, Hotchner, Gideon, Jareau," Eric paused, he was horrible with names, actually Paris was impressed that he had gotten as many as he had, he was looking at the young agent with the tacks, the agent looked up from his own world "I'm sorry, and?"

"Dr. Reid," Agent Hotchner answered Paris was taken aback, doctor? Not agent?

"Right, sorry," Eric said as his face flushed with embarrassment, but he quickly recovered. Agent Morgan however was looking at Paris with an confused look on his face,

"How old is this kid?" he asked the room.

"Ten," Greg spoke up from his paperwork "though he talks like he's fifty,"

"I do not," Paris retorted, he turned to the agents "I'll be eleven in a couple days, Sunday to be specific."

The blonde agent, who Eric had introduced as Agent Jareau smiled gently at him,

"So why were you named Paris?"

"My mom was a fan of the classics, the Iliad and the Odyssey are….were her two favorite. Lucky for me she wasn't a fan of Dickens. I can use Paris to my advantage better than I could Oliver, which would only have increased my probability of getting pounded on at school. Least with Paris I can change it."

"Change it to the other name that Paris is known as? Alexander?" a voice came from behind him making Paris jump.

It was Dr. Reid, Paris turned around fast to face him, partly surprised that he made the connection.

Reid gave him a little grin, which slowly Paris returned, it was a joke that apparently only they understood, because no one else seemed to get it. No one aside from Leslie had ever understood the reason Paris had gone by Alex, why Alexander had become his middle name, at least not unless he explained it to them, Dr. Reid was the first.

"As a matter of fact yeah; after my experience today it only proves my point that my name could lead to problems" he finished looking at Eric who gave him a warning look "anyways…I think she was making a point and based on my namesakes list of events that happened to him and my current living arrangements."

"Paris, knock it off"

"Sorry Uncle Eric,"

"Why don't you go take a cool down in my office, and do something productive, like you're homework? Like I asked you to do?"

"Aye, aye sir," Paris replied and walked back to Eric's office.


	8. Chapter 8

Eric sighed and rubbed his temple, the headache he had taken Advil for an hour early, was apparently to strong for normal Advil, especially now that Paris was around and in his 'I'm going to be the obnoxious 10 year old' routine, it might be time to pull out the prescription stuff.

"You'll have to excuse him, he's a good kid and despite the impression he just gave you he is a sweet kid. But he's had a helluv a day, a helluv a past few months actually and sees fit to take it out on me."

Gideon put some papers down on the desk and looked at Eric sternly

"When did she pass away?" he asked.

Eric was taken aback by the question, he looked at his officers for an explanation, something none of them were able to give

"Excuse me?"

"His foster mother,"

"What makes you think she's dead?" Eric asked

"He talks about her in the past tense and there is some resentment in his voice when he started talking about her. I've seen your office, you have a number of photos of your daughter and you have a very recent picture of you, your wife, and your daughter at her high school graduation, dated nearly two years ago. But there are no sign of Paris save for one picture of him at about three or four with a woman I presume was his foster mother because they look nothing alike, a photo of him at I'm assuming seven on a family trip to Disney World, and one very recent school photo, taken at the beginning of this school year. Paris only recently came to live with you and your family, though he has been a part of your family for some time, because even if he had been with you for a few years, there would at least be some pictures of him growing up, at least in your daughter's graduation photo, since it appears to be the whole family, but it is just those three pictures. His voice also tells me that she gave up custody of him and he feels betrayed by her, not just by her, but by other adults who have also tried to keep her decision from him. I get the impression that she gave him up on her own accord and it wasn't a decision she came to lightly, most likely because she had no other choice." Gideon paused and looked towards the office; he could see Paris looking back at him through the blinds, listening intently to the conversation. Seeing this, Gideon lowered his voice. "He feels as though she abandoned him, but the fact that she gave him his name…his identity, is strong in his mind. Since she named, him it's fair to guess that Paris was given up at birth and he stayed in her custody until recently. I think his anger at the world persona is more of a mask than actual hatred towards those around him, because he seems angry at himself for not fighting to stay with her, more so than at anyone in his life."

All the officers stared at Gideon, Eric included. Partly because in such a short time of meeting one another, the older agent had nailed Paris perfectly; only Gage voiced his astonishment

"Whoa, holy crap you guys are good," Eric rolled his eyes at Gage who shrugged. Before he turned to Gideon,

"Leslie was my wife's best friend…an…and my cousin, she became Paris's foster mother when he was barley forty-eight hours old, named him and raised him like her own when she could finally bring him home from the hospital. Paris was born four months premature and his birthmother gave up custody of him as she was going into labor, at least that's what Leslie was told. Doctors weren't even sure if Paris would make it because he was so small and so weak. Leslie couldn't even bring him home for nearly four months after he was born. An official adoption was supposed to happen last year, May 3rd actually." Eric sighed, his voice cracking a little. Leslie had been more than his cousin, she had been his best friend since they were kids.

Growing up next door to one another and being around the same age they were very close. Eric and Lori were such constant fixtures in Paris's life, and were the two people that she trusted with him the most, that Leslie hadn't given a second thought to her two best friends taking custody of her soon to be adopted son, a request that Eric and Lori could not refuse, they were in talks with Paris's caseworker about setting up a date to finish Leslie's paperwork to finalize his adoption.

Elle came up next to Eric and patted his shoulder gently, he looked over at her and then back over at his office, he saw Paris looking at him, watching intently.

"What changed?" Elle asked

"Leslie was diagnosed with terminal breast cancer about a year ago. She was given three months to live. So she gave up custody asking that my wife and I take Paris, and she checked herself into a hospice. She didn't want him to find out"

"No one told him what was happening?" JJ asked exchanging a look with Morgan

"It was Leslie's wish…"

"She didn't want him to watch her die," Hotch spoke up, he was only half paying attention to the conversation between Williamson and the team,

"Leslie's mother, my Aunt Beth died of the same thing; Leslie had to watch her die a very painful death with nothing she could do. She didn't want Paris to go through the same thing. The doctors…they gave her three months, but she lasted four, everyone thought she would beat it, despite the odds. She died last June. We tried ever…everything to keep it from Paris, but he's a smart kid…figured it out, but we kept it from him pretty well and he didn't find out until after the fact, literally a day after we received the call that she was gone." He paused "Lori, my wife…she couldn't stand lying to him, she didn't want Paris to grow up thinking that Leslie gave him up because she didn't want him or didn't love him. It was her own way of grieving I suppose."

"This may be personal, but are you and your wife planning on adopting him?" JJ asked, more out of curiosity than anything, Eric nodded.

"We are…at least we're trying…we're really not sure how ready we are. Paris is a good kid and we've known him his entire life, he really needs someone who is able and willing to fight fire with fire with him…Leslie could counter anything he managed to throw out. She was smart…book smart and that's what he needs, someone who can level out to his intelligence, he's good at reading people and knows how to push buttons if he feels he needs to, it's his defense mechanism I guess. Our main obstacle is his damn caseworker, she is really making things difficult with certain agreements she wants met in the adoption paperwork… things she couldn't get Leslie to agree to. I've personally come to the conclusion that she just wants everyone to be as miserable as she is. But the truth of the matter is, that as long as Paris is technically a foster child, she has some say in his wellbeing, he gets adopted, she knows she will lose all say."

"Has he ever been given an IQ test?" Gideon asked, looking over at the empty window where Paris had been watching, he suspected the boy was still trying to listen, but had moved from the window, to perhaps the floor.

"When he was eight, Leslie was completely against it, but his caseworker insisted. Not that it mattered in the end."

"How's that?" Reid spoke up

"Paris scored a 118, which from what I've read is right around average. So as far as the test could tell, he was a typical eight year old, with some strengths in reading and math, but nothing extraordinary."

"You don't think the test was accurate?" Hotch asked, finally giving his full attention to the conversation, like JJ, he was curious about the ten year old, especially the boy's obvious high intelligence, but strong desire to hide it from the world.

"Like I said…I've known Paris pretty much his entire life, he was just four months old when Leslie was finally able to bring him home from the hospital…He's a smart kid…knows how things work and how to work things. Of course there's no proof, but Lori, Leslie, and I all believe he purposely and carefully answered each question so it would put him in the average category." Elle and JJ exchanged a look before JJ spoke up

"Why would he do that…how could he do that?"

Francis looked up from his own paperwork; he exchanged a look with Eric before turning back to the team

"Ma'am, ifen you can answer those two questions you win all the chips in the casino" he said

"no one…not even Leslie, has ever figure out why…or even how he did it." Eric explained.

* * *

><p>AN: Since both 8 and 9 are fairly short chapters, nine will be up right after this! Thank you all my readers!


	9. Chapter 9

Paris peeked his head out the door, listening intently to the conversation. Agent Gideon had lowered his voice when he was speaking, but Eric was never good at that so Paris had heard every word…though he wasn't sure if Eric really intended for him to.

He had the utmost respect for Eric…he had been a father figure to Paris for as long as Paris could remember, but even with that, he'd never feel comfortable calling Lori and Eric anything other than his aunt and uncle.

But what really surprised him was Eric's state of denial, Leslie had known exactly why Paris had done what he had with the test and for the most part she knew how he did it, nothing really detailed, but she had a general idea of how the eight year old had outsmarted a test designed to test intelligence.

Paris sighed and turned to Eric's desk, where he had spread out his homework, none of it would take him very long to do, but the energy to even start it wasn't there…but the more Paris thought it over, he realized that he could easily free up his unplanned four day weekend by getting the assignments over and done with.

This was what he was doing, when he heard the sound of feet scuffing from the doorway. Looking up, he tried to focus his eyesight on the figure, his glasses were in a case, shoved deep in a pocket of his bag, he was determined to leave them there, but this made seeing difficult, but squinting, Paris was able to see it was Dr. Reid, he looked nervous and unsure how to start the conversation.

Paris knew how he felt he hated talking to people too, especially new people. His talking to the FBI earlier had been completely out of character for him, but then again…so was getting into a fight with the school bully and running away from school. But now that he had started to calm down, he was also slipping back into his usual quiet routine.

A couple of seconds of silence passed between them and Paris wondered if Dr. Reid had volunteered to talk to him or if because he was the youngest of the team and therefore closer to Paris's age, he had been asked. Judging by his mannerism and body language, the latter was more probable.

Paris took a deep breath, eventually one of them would have to start talking, and as much as he didn't want to, Paris figured he might as well.

"Hi," he said softly giving Reid a half smile. That one word seemed to be the icebreaker, as Reid started to relax a bit.

"Hi," he replied giving Paris a quick wave, his other hand grasping his messenger bag tightly; he walked into the office slowly and looked around for a vacant chair.

Paris, who was normally very neat and tidy, had kind of taken over Eric's office with his stuff. His backpack was in one chair, his binder for reading, science, and world culture was in the other, while his world culture and reading workbooks were all over the desk, in front of him was his math workbook. He looked up at Reid and kind of shrugged and he was surprised to see Reid chuckle and even gave him a grin.

"Um…sorry, lemme move my stuff," Paris said jumping up, he grabbed his books and shoved them all in his backpack, and tossed the bag to the floor behind the desk. His math workbook remained open. It was the last of his homework, meant to keep him occupied for his two day plus weekend suspension, all he had was five word problems to solve and he would be completely done.

"Thanks," Reid replied, sitting down in the chair that Paris's backpack had occupied. He leaned forward and looked over Paris's workbook. "Fractions huh?" he asked,

Paris gave a short laugh, to show his dislike he liked math, but most of it was so easy that it became more of an annoyance than anything. Especially when he had to write things out, he could figure the answers out pretty easily in his head, skipping a lot of steps that his peers had to do to come to the same answer, but trying to explain this on paper was not an easy task

"Worse, fraction word problems" Reid returned Paris's grin, nodding in agreement, before he spoke again.

"Are you ok with taking a break from them?"

"Well…lets see, I had homework for science, reading, world culture, AND math… designed to punish/keep me busy for the entire weekend and once I complete those five word problems and show my work. I'll be free to enjoy whatever punishment my aunt and uncle have in mind for me." Reid gave a half grin and raised his eyebrow, obviously amused "er… yeah… I'm happy to take a break."

"Well, I was wondering if I could ask you some questions,"

Paris nodded and closed the workbook.

"'bout Grant?" Reid nodded and Paris sighed, "I'm not sure how much help I'm gonna be though. I do have one question though,"

"Shoot,"

"Can I go grab a drink please?"

Reid looked surprised

"Do you promise to come back?"

Paris grinned

"Dr. Reid, I may not like talking to people 'bout my friends, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna take off to avoid something that I know is inevitable." His grin widened "plus if I leave, you've got my favorite book to hold hostage, so eventually I gotta come back."

Reid's surprised face changed to one of amused inquisitiveness

"Just out of curiosity," Paris nodded towards his backpack; silently giving Reid permission to go through his bag, Reid reached into the boy's backpack and extracted an obviously worn hardcover copy of Edgar Allen Poe's short stories and poems. He held it up and looked through the old book, checking the copyright, "1901?" he breathed

"It was my mom's, she got it from my…" Paris paused, he wasn't sure how to continue, "she got it from I guess you can call her my grandmother, and I think she got it from her father, it's kinda a tradition" Despite the age of the book and it's obvious constant usage, it was in decent shape, it was well taken care of, but definitely well used. "I don't go anywhere without it, though I know I should leave it home 'cause it's so old. Uncle Eric's been tellin' me that for months now."

Reid gently opened the cover, where, written in neat delicate handwriting, was a message to Leslie Smith from her mother, and directly below that was another message written in similar handwriting:

'_Paris_' it read '_beneath these pages lies the work of a great story teller and poet, and I can only hope you allow your mind to take you to the places of your imagination and with Poe's help, find your own literary voice that I know is there inside you. Never forget how proud of you I am and how much I love you. Quoth the Raven: Nevermore- mom._'

Reid looked up at Paris who looked away from him; Paris had read and reread Leslie's message to him each time he opened the book. She had given him the book on his eighth birthday and he had kept it carefully positioned on his nightstand, so he could read it before going to sleep.

After she sent him to live with the Williamsons, he slept with it under his pillow…and when he found out that she had passed away, it went nearly everywhere with him; because when he read the stories and the poems, he could hear Leslie reading them to him, and he liked the feeling of her being with him, even if she really wasn't.

Looking at the binding of the book it was easy to see which section the book was most opened to, the Raven.

"The Raven?" Reid asked, Paris nodded

"It's my favorite. Mom used to read it to me 'fore I went to sleep." Reid raised an eyebrow "I know it's kinda weird, but it helped me go to sleep, mom said when she first started reading it to me I was usually out by the time she got to 'Distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December' part, but even then I had the whole thing memorized 'fore I could read. Most kids get lullabies and regular bedtime stories, I got the Raven and Shakespeare. Mom used to read me the witches scene from Macbeth and she would change her voice to sound cackling and spooky." Quickly Paris shook his head, as if he was shaking away the memories "anyways, do you want some coffee? If Lieutenant Brown made it then it'll be safe but if Gage made it, it could be deadly Uncle Eric says he has a bad habit of not changing the filters." Paris made a face which Reid returned, "but I think it's safe today, he's been banned from the coffee maker."

"Sure, coffee sounds good,"

Paris nodded

"Uh…how do you take it?"

"Two teaspoons of sugar is good," again Paris nodded

"K, be right back," and with that Paris darted out of the office, Reid watched him leave and saw Gideon watching him as well, before looking back into the office. He walked over and poked his head inside

"How's it going?"

"He's starting to open up," Reid replied "slowly." Gideon nodded

"It may be a slow process, from what Williamson has told me, he's a pretty closed up kid, trust is in short supply with him, but the fact that he's willingly talking to you is a good sign, means he's starting to trust you, which is what is most important right now."

Reid looked Paris's belongings over, still fascinated by the Poe book, before looking back up at Gideon

"You really think he's a target?"

Gideon sighed and nodded

"He's a potential target, Paris was friends with the latest victim and also fits the criteria that the unsub is putting on these kids, a loner and bullied." He looked out towards the bullpen, Williamson and Morgan were heading out to the dumpsite of the first victim, Phillip Carson, Reid followed Gideon's gaze and looked back at him "but Williamson is in complete denial that Paris could be in danger, I believe Paris lucked out today, but his uncle doesn't seem to see that." Gideon reached into his pocket and extracted a plastic evidence bag, a ripped piece of notebook paper lay inside. "They found this stuffed in Grant Dennerson's sock, his prints are all over it." He handed it to Reid who stared at what was written the name 'Paris Smi-' with the last two letters left on the original paper. "We just found out about it," Gideon took a deep breath, withholding his frustration with the Las Vegas Detective. "What can you tell me about it?" Reid stared at the ripped paper for a few seconds; he could practically see the author of it writing in the original notebook, writing down each name.

"Well, it was written by an adult…at least forty-five, but I would guess older, just judging by the jagged marks on some of the letters, I'd have to say he's either developing or already has rheumatoid arthritis. Most likely spends a lot of time on a keyboard and handwriting notes, possible onset of carpel tunnel." Reid looked up at Gideon "why didn't Williamson mention this before?"

"He is convinced that it is all coincidental and that the note proves nothing. He's made it very clear to mention that Grant Dennerson and Paris were good friends and constantly had notes going back and forth."

"He really thinks a 13 year old wrote this? Despite the obvious jagged marks, the handwriting is too precise to be a child, it is to neat. What do you think?"

"What do I think? I think that Grant saw a list of names while he was with the UnSub and upon seeing his friend's name on the list, tried to protect him by ripping his name off the list."

Reid nodded slowly and pushed the bag back to Gideon

"That's why you wanted me to talk to Paris?"

"I want him to trust someone other than his family, and I want that someone to be relatable to a ten year old who has an extremely high intelligence that he is not willing to show."

Reid looked doubtful

"I'll do what I can," he replied

"You're already getting somewhere with him, he's starting to tell you bits and pieces of his life." Reid nodded, still doubtful that he was the best person to get Paris out of his shell. "Morgan has Garcia comparing records of each victim, hopefully there is some commonality between them." again Reid nodded, if Penelope Garcia couldn't find some record linking all the kids together, no one could. "Just keep up what you're doing, you're doing fine."


	10. Chapter 10

At the coffee maker across from Eric's office, Paris was carefully pouring Dr. Reid's cup of coffee when Agent Morgan came over,

"Hey kid, that for Reid?" he asked, Paris looked back at Eric's office and nodded,

"Uh huh," he replied, Morgan grinned wide

"How much sugar did he tell you he takes?"

"A couple teaspoons," Paris replied "why?" Morgan's grin went even wider and he chuckled

"Kid, he was being discreet, he takes a lot more sugar than a couple teaspoons."

Now Paris began to grin as he poured himself a cup, Lori hated the idea that Eric let him drink coffee, but there wasn't much she could do about it and Eric didn't think it was a big deal, because it was only once in a great while that Paris actually drank the coffee. And as Eric constantly pointed out, it wasn't like he was drinking straight coffee anyways; Paris put so much sugar and milk into the coffee that Eric didn't even think it could still be called real coffee, more like sugared milk with a hint of coffee somewhere in the cup.

"How much then?" Paris ventured to ask, Morgan reached over to the sugar bowl, put the spoon on the tray, and simply dumped the bowl in, Paris watched in amazement as the sugar poured into the small cup, he blinked in shock.

"That should be enough, if it's not enough, tell him this coffee is from Agent Morgan, he'll get it." Paris nodded; he looked into the near empty sugar bowl and shook his head… slowly he reached for the spoon and dumped what was left of the sugar into his cup, before filling the remainder of the cup with milk. "Apparently Reid's not the only sugar addict around." Paris's ears went red and he laughed a little "you really drink coffee?"

Paris was about to answer when Eric came up behind him

"Yes he does and that actually isn't a lot of sugar by Paris standards, about a pound works for him." Eric finished peering into the now empty sugar bowl "Paris?"

"I know I know…" he reached under the cabinet and pulled out a bag of sugar and replenished the sugar bowl

"Thanks," Eric knelt down so he was eye level with Paris "Paris can I trust you to stay here for an hour or so and still be here when I get back?" Paris nodded

"Yes sir" he muttered

"And please don't harass Gage about his computer, it…it's becoming a touchy subject." Again the boy nodded, Eric patted his head as he stood up, he turned to leave, but looked back down at Paris "and pal? Answer whatever questions the agents have for you, but don't bug them ok? My office is yours until I gets back, but I expect you to do something productive. Got it?"

Without waiting for Paris's answer, Eric headed out, but not before Paris thought of something he had to ask.

"uncle Eric?" he called, the detective turned and faced his foster son

"What Paris?"

"Can I borrow your cell phone?" Eric raised his eyebrow, he had two cells, one was police issue and the other was his private phone, he usually kept both on him, but both numbers were known by close friends and family, Lori usually called his police issue first, better chance of getting a hold of him.

"Why?"

"I want to call Jess and thank her for getting my homework together,"

"Cant it wait until we get home?"

"It could, but it's not something I wanna put off, she took the time to get all my stuff together, the least I can do is call her and thank her. Plus you said that there was a good chance I was sleeping here tonight."

Eric sighed and unclipped his phone from his belt and handed it to Paris

"No long distance phone calls and no ordering a pizza got it?" now Paris rolled his eyes as he slipped the phone into his pocket, Eric turned again to leave, but looked back at Paris "you didn't have lunch did you?" he shook his head, Eric looked at his watch "it's 12:30 now, do you want a sandwich," Paris shrugged, Eric rubbed his chin "I'll call you when we get through, if you want something to eat, just let me know then what you want, ok?" now Eric headed towards the door, Morgan, giving him a half grin, followed Eric out of the station.

Paris quickly called Jess, of course she wasn't home from school yet, but her mother answered and promised to have her call Paris when she got home.

After hanging up and slipping the phone back into the pocket of his jeans, he carefully picked up the two coffee cups and started back towards the office, but the board with the pictures caught his eyes. He had been trying to see them, but now that he had the opportunity he was wary, after all the last photo of his best friend was on that board.

Despite what Paris did know about the case…how the kids were killed was the one part Eric had managed to keep from him. Taking a deep breath, Paris closed his eyes, and counted to ten slowly, trying to collect his thoughts as his heart began pounding loudly.

He opened his eyes and walked over to the board, even without his glasses, Paris could see everything in the photos very clearly.

Minus Grant, Paris didn't recognize any of the other kids, but all of them had the same thing in common, they all looked like they were asleep. Paris's eyes darted across the different photos, taking in each one of them into his memory, from the random photos of the kids being kids and their school photos, to the ones next to them, each one in a different place, but all "asleep".

When his eyes landed on Grant's picture, he winced, the photos they had of Grant made Paris's stomach drop; and he wondered if the cops had made the connection, he wondered if Eric had made the connection.

The first photo of Grant had been taken nearly four months earlier at Grand Gamers Domain. Eric and Grant's foster father Paul took the boys to the arcade during Christmas vacation.

Eric had taken the photo himself, Paris had ducked out of the photo just as the camera clicked, but Grant had just rolled his eyes at his friend and let Eric take his picture as he stood in front of 'Big Rig' a truck driving game that Paris had whooped him at.

The second photo, in which Grant was sitting on the floor of the arcade was also the GGD, Paris could see the skeet-ball machine that Grant had spent most of his tokens on; closing his eyes, Paris could picture the entire arcade; where Eric had taken Grant's picture was just ten feet away from the corner that the skeet-ball machine was situated.

"Hey, you ok?" Paris looked behind him, it was Reid,

"Y…yeah…sorry," he handed the agent his coffee, he took a sip of his own and made a face as the hot liquid burned his tongue, apparently the milk hadn't cooled the coffee down enough, maybe sticking it in the fridge or in front of the AC would do it. Reid took a sip of his own coffee and also made a face, as he looked down at Paris, not with an angry face like Paris expected, but one of confusion "um…yeah Agent Morgan said you were being discreet with two teaspoons, he poured almost half the sugar bowl in there and said to tell you that the coffee was from him," Reid gave a short laugh and shook his head "sorry," Paris said looking down at his feet

"Don't worry about it," Reid peered over Paris's shoulders "coffee?" he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice, Paris nodded before looking back at the pictures. "What is it?"

"Might be nothing…" Paris started to say, he put his cup down on the nearest desk and moved closer to the board "but you guys know that these are the same places right?"

Reid joined Paris at the board, looking to where the 10 year old was pointing.

"Same arcade?"

Paris nodded

"Christmas break, uncle Eric and Mr. Kilbourn took me an' Grant to the Grand Gamers Domain," Paris tapped the picture "Uncle Eric took that picture," now Paris's eyes along with his finger moved to the other picture "that picture? That's also the GGD…just a different part, actually that's the skeet-ball machine, it's about ten, maybe twenty feet to the left…it's…it was Grant's favorite game, he loved technical games, but he was a master at skeet-ball." Paris paused "you know how at arcades you get tickets with certain games depending on your score?"

Reid nodded

"Sure,"

"Well, you know how some of the prizes, especially the really good ones are worth like 500, maybe even 50,000 tickets sometimes more than that? Well, the day that this picture was taken? Grant won a portable DVD player he got that many tickets."

"Did Grant ever go to the Game-Works arcade?"

Paris nodded

"Twice, I've never been." Paris paused again "but Grant wasn't all that thrilled with it, he said it's got a great game selection, but the skeet-ball was a big disappointment."

Reid grinned a little

"Did he say why?"

Paris returned the grin

"Grant may have loved technical things, but when they spilled into his skeet-ball he got annoyed, apparently Game-Works was trying a new version of skeet-ball, it registers the movement of a person-"

"and accurately displays it on the screen?"

"Yeah…some kinda virtual reality thing, I heard Nintendo is in the works for a new system exactly like that and the rumor is that it's being tested at different large arcades around the world, including Game Works, but no ones supposed to know that it's for Nintendo. For anything else Grant would've been thrilled, but not that, nothin' messed with his skeet-ball."

Paris laughed a little, then stopped quickly, here he was staring at images of his best friend next to the word 'victim five' and he was laughing about a stupid game. Paris felt his heart pick up speed and he started to feel a little queasy, what was wrong with him? What kind of friend was he…he hadn't felt any kind of emotion since Grant had gone missing and had barley a flicker of emotion when he had learned that his best friend had been found dead.

"Paris? You all right?" Reid asked

"Ye…Ye…yeah…didn't have lunch and didn't have much breakfast…so I'm gettin' kinda woozy. Um…I'm gonna run to the vending machine in the hall, k?"

Reid nodded and watched Paris jog not towards the hall, but to the bathroom, he sighed and looked back at the photos. Paris was trying to tell him something about his friend, without betraying him.

Why had the UnSub picked Gamers and not Game-Works, Game-Works was a newer arcade, it was larger in square footage than GGD, which meant more people and more people meant an easier time blending in.

Not to mention, from what Reid had read, it had a lot more games than the older GGD arcade, both arcades were easily a kids paradise, but something had made the UnSub pick the GGD as opposed to Game-Works.

Reid was still staring at the photos intently thinking this over when Paris came out of the restroom. He looked less pale than before, but still looked really shaky. When Reid turned to face him, Paris gave a kind of half grin as he returned to his coffee.

"Paris, you said that Grant liked GGD because it hadn't tried to computerize skeet-ball?" Paris shrugged

"Yeah. So?"

"You wouldn't have an idea who else knew that?"

"I guess some people did, not sure how many 'xactly or who for that matter, aside from his foster parents and my aunt and uncle." Paris put his hands on the desk behind him and lifted himself up onto it, looking at Reid with almost a sad look in his eyes; he really didn't feel comfortable talking about Grant like this.

It was like their friendship had been nothing more than a psychological observation, just waiting for his death so he could give that observation to someone to study.

"Paris?"

"Look Dr. Reid, Grant didn't talk to many people; at school, around, he didn't like to talk to people and not many people liked to talk to him." Reid leaned against the opposite desk and nodded, encouraging Paris on "he didn't talk to his classmates 'cause none of them cared to find out what he had to say, maybe he had some people he hung out with at school, but friendships were a tough commodity with Grant. His file probably already told you that though, his guidance councilor was really meticulous when it came to his students…especially Grant. He liked what he calls special cases."

Now Reid's curiosity was really peaked

"Special cases?"

"Yeah, Grant told me that he was helping him with an application to a private high school in Boulder City. He's a nice guy, goes out of his way to help kids…especially kids like Grant and me." Reid stared at Paris for a second or two Paris raised his eyebrow and gave Reid the same look he was getting "what?"

"You've met Grant's guidance councilor?" Paris nodded

"Yeah, he came to my school a couple times to talk to my grade…y'know helping us get ready to go to middle school next year" Paris put his hands up grinning and made quote signs "the big 'transition' from elementary school to middle school." Paris paused "he's a nice guy, Eric probably already talked to him about Grant, but might be worth talkin' to him again, if anyone knew Grant better than me it was Mr. Cramer. Grant was in his office pretty much every day, just venting or recovering from the daily fights he got into…."


	11. Chapter 11

Back in Virginia, Penelope Garcia was keeping very busy. On the five computer screens, she had records upon records of each victim, each search engine was running through the files trying to find even the smallest similarity between each kid; on the sixth computer she was fighting with the Las Vegas Department of Children and Family services, trying to gain access to foster care and parental records on Phillip Carson and Grant Dennerson; despite the fact that five kids had been murdered and two were technically cared for by the state, DCF was not being very corporative with giving up their records to the FBI, but instead of getting frustrated with this minor rebellion; Garcia saw it as a challenge, something she loved, she would get into their records with or without their help, without it just meant that she would forever have access to their records.

When her phone rang, she was just one step closer to completely hacking into the departments records. She gave a nod of satisfaction knowing the computer would continue it's infiltration on its own, and leaned over pressing the answer button on the phone.

"Office of limitless power and ability, how can I help you today?" thousands of miles away in Vegas, Reid pulled the phone back from his ear and stared at it for a second. Garcia never ceased to surprise him

"Uh…Garcia, we need you to add one more name to the list," at first Garcia was at a loss for words, that was not what she wanted to hear, the images of five dead kids were already on her screens, the last thing she wanted was to turn the sixth screen on adding another child.

"They found another one?" she asked, wincing as she awaited Reid's answer

"No." Reid replied, the tone of his voice changing trying to reassure her "We think we have a potential target, Gideon wants you to find all you can about him, talking to him is only getting us so far."

Now Garcia smiled knowingly

"Let me guess, 10 years old, goes by Alex, real name Paris Smith? Talks like you and apparently acts like you?"

"How-"

"Morgan just called me to tell me about the mini you, you have a minion Reid, its so cute. Almost Mini-me from Austin Powers like. Does he look like you too?"

Reid's face once again contorted to a look of confusion. He looked across the bullpen to Captain Williamson's office, where Paris had resumed his homework, and shook his head.

"Mini Me?...Minion?" he repeated and shook his head again "Gideon wants any record you can find on Paris; especially his DCF files, caseworker, school records, and his original birth certificate if it's possible."

"Reid who do you think you're talking to here?" she paused and began typing "ok, I've got his school records and DCF files, but looks like both his birth certificates are sealed."

"Can you unseal them?"

"Again Reid…I feel pained that you have such little faith in my abilities," now Reid rolled his eyes "I'm sending you all the records I pulled on Paris; his birth certificate and earlier records might be a little tougher, let me work on it," and with that she hung up and turned her attention back to the computer screens.

DCF in Vegas may have been protective of its documents, but it's security and hacker prevention was severely lacking, allowing Garcia access pretty quickly. The records of Grant, Phillip, and now Paris flooded her computer screens.

Philip had been seized by the state in 1999 when he was six months old from cocaine addicted parents who were so high that they were neglecting the baby. Up until he was a year old Philip was shifted to two different foster families, unable to handle his crying and Philip's inability to thrive, before the Carson family became his foster parents. Within three months of becoming foster parents, the Carson's were ready to officially adopt Philip. He was born addicted to cocaine and as a result suffered from severe learning disabilities making school difficult for him, it was suspected he was slightly autistic.

Though in Special Ed classes, Philip was making progress with classes and his teachers were in the process of inclusion for Philip, with two subjects, on top of already being included in art, gym, music, and social studies, the list would include language arts and science.

Educationally Philip was making excellent progress, but socially he was still having trouble and was a target of teasing and bullying, as noted by his teachers and the principal.

Grant was seized by the state in 1998 at five years old, from an abusive household where the father physically, verbally, and emotionally abused Grant's mother, Grant, his fourteen year old sister and two year old brother, it reached the point where his beating led to the hospitalization of Mrs. Dennerson, she died of her injuries twenty four hours after being admitted and Mr. Dennerson was subsequently arrested for the murder of his wife and was serving his sentence.

All three children were seized and unfortunately separated. The youngest brother was quickly adopted and up until the family moved to Oregon in 2000, regularly visited his older brother and sister, mainly Grant.

The sister bounced from short term care foster homes and group homes until she turned eighteen in 2002, she had little to no contact with her younger brothers during her four years in the foster care system and upon turning eighteen cut off all ties with them all together, she moved to Massachusetts to attend college at Clark University in Worcester; engaged and preparing to graduate, she had put all aspects of her life in Nevada behind her including her younger brothers.

Grant on the other was not as lucky as his younger brother or even his older sister. Like his sister, Grant bounced from foster home to foster home. Extreme behavioral problems and heavy case of ADHD made Grant a difficult placement and up until the Kilbourn family, his caseworker had yet to find him a placement that lasted longer than six months, the Kilbourn family was in the middle of finalizing Grant's adoption.

On top of the list of complaints and issues noted in the DCF file, Grant's school records listed fights, disruptions, and overall complaints launched by teachers, peers, and other school workers against Grant, from first grade and continuing to seventh grade, even the day he disappeared Grant had gotten into a fight with four eighth graders.

The one difference in the reports was a note of progress written by Grant's guidance counselor and apparent mentor, James Cramer. Cramer had been Grant's guidance counselor for nearly two years and was very protective of the boy. He never supported Grant's fighting and behavior problems, but he seemed to understand the reasoning behind the incidents and was doing his best to work with Grant to find alternate solutions to the fighting.

From what Garcia was reading; Grant had applied to a private school in Boulder City, the application being pushed and had been strongly recommended by James Cramer.

Now Garcia turned her attention to the newest file, Paris Smith. Aside from his birth certificate being sealed, there weren't any real red flags in his DCF file, at least none that she saw at a first glance.

Paris was born four months premature. According to the worker assigned to the case Erin Lowe a hospital social-worker, the mother whose name was not noted on any of the records, had terminated her parental rights before going into labor. Eight hours later, she checked herself out of the hospital against medical advice accompanied by a lawyer who apparently encouraged the discharge.

The baby, nicknamed Joey by the nurses in the preemie ward, stayed in the hospital for nearly four full months, before Leslie Smith was able to take her foster-son home. She was granted full custody of the infant a week after he was born and named him Paris Alexander Smith. From then until Paris was five and enrolled in kindergarten, nothing major had been documented.

It was around then Paris's case became the responsibility of another social worker, Victoria "Vicky" Mason, though Leslie had full custody of Paris, Vicky felt it was her duty to be involved in Paris's life, but it wasn't until Paris was eight years old, did Vicky manage to have Paris tested for a high IQ, which was documented in his case file and something everyone minus Vicky were completely against, especially Leslie who strongly voiced her opinion against the testing of Paris. But as stated by Williamson, Paris's score showed no signs of high intelligence, it showed him as a slightly above average eight year old, the above average being in math and reading comprehension.

That was it…the matter of his becoming a foster child and the IQ test, were the only major notes in Paris's file; aside from those, he was a typical kid. He had been signed up for soccer for the Northeast local youth soccer league starting when he was five, but had quit the sport about a year prior. He was never in any serious trouble at school, though his teachers indicated that he was shy and mistrustful of his peers, his grades were decent, usually B and B+'s, with an occasional A. He had only been absent from school a few times that school year, had two early dismissals for doctor and dentist appointments and one tardy, which caused Garcia to grin. Apparently the tardy was due to Williamson forgetting what time school started.

Chuckling to herself, Garcia continued to read, until another flag began to wave, it wasn't a red flag as Paris's sealed birth certificate had been (which was in the long process of being unsealed), but it was a deeper look in just how much Leslie Smith loved her foster son and looked ahead to his future, it was Leslie's will, which was filed among Vicky's paperwork for Paris.

According to her will, Leslie had started a trust and a separate savings account for Paris for his education, of course Paris had his own savings account that Leslie had helped him keep track of as a way to help him learn money when he was around five, one she had opened when she became his foster mother. But this other account wasn't designed to be touched.

Though Leslie was no millionaire, she had begun saving money in a joint account with both her and Paris's names on it when he was around seven, designed to help Paris get started at whatever college he chose to attend, money could be withdrawn from it at anytime, but since it had been established in 2002 it had not been touched.

Before her death, Leslie had also set up a trust for Paris, that only his guardian could access until he turned eighteen that is, however like with the savings account until Paris turned eighteen, any money withdrawn from the trust had to be used solely for Paris's education, proof of which had to be shown at the bank at the time of withdrawal.

Garcia glanced at her other screen, the picture that Morgan had sent her of Paris was borrowed from Williamson himself, it was Leslie and Paris sitting together at Disney World standing in front of the giant sphere of E.C.O.P.T. Leslie was wearing Mickey Mouse ears and Paris wore a Goofy hat, Leslie had her arm around Paris's shoulder and both were smiling happily at the camera.. Garcia couldn't help, but smile…he was a cute kid with a very warm smile…a warm and familiar smile. Morgan had also sent Paris's school photo, his smile on this photo looked forced and the hurt look in his eyes reminded Garcia of the puppies the TV always shown on the ASPCA ad asking for donations.

Sighing, she sent all that she had gathered on Paris to Reid's computer; no sooner had she hit the send button, when one of search engines began beeping.

Typing a few codes in, Paris's original birth-certificate, the one labeling him as Baby Boy X, DOB March 12th 1995, appeared on the screen in front of her, Garcia's eyes went wide as she looked over the birth certificate someone had worked very hard to seal. Unsure what else to do, she pressed the dial button on the phone, calling Hotch for his advice.


	12. Chapter 12

March 9th, 2006

1:45 PM

Hartke Park, Las Vegas, Nevada

* * *

><p>In Nevada, Morgan and Williamson, joined by Hotch and Elle were surveying the playground from which Philip Carson had disappeared and was found at. Elle and Hotch had been at the Las Vegas Zoo, where in the Botanical Gardens, ten year Josie Marshal had been found.<p>

It was an average playground, nothing spectacular, but to a seven year old like Philip, it was like Disney Land. Williamson was explaining in detail what Mrs. Carson had tearfully had told him when she discovered Philip missing. Following Williamson, Morgan retraced each step that Philip had taken from the minute he entered the playground to his disappearance twenty minutes later.

"So Mrs. Carson was where?" Morgan asked Williamson, the older officer walked to a grassy patch, shaded by a large tree, but with a full view of the playground.

"Everything was here; Philip had ridden his scooter here while Mrs. Carson carried the bag with their picnic lunch. She knelt down here to spread out their lunch." Williamson paused and glanced around the playground "she said she looked up once just to double check that Philip was climbing the slide, she looked down to pull their lunch out and when she glanced up he was gone."

"That's only a few seconds, if that," Morgan pointed out

"Right, but she just figured he was lingering in the top part of the slide, some reason Philip liked being in tight spaces, he loved that slide because it offers just that. She gave him a minute or so to slide down and when he didn't she called him for lunch, when he didn't answer her that's when she looked up a third time and went over to the slide."

"So Philip slides down, and some how is lured away?" Elle said skeptical,

"See that's just it," Williamson noted "Philip was shy, especially around strangers, from what the Carsons' have told us, he would have screamed his lungs out if someone he didn't know even looked at him for to long, he would not have gone with just anyone…no matter what they offered." Morgan paused and glanced around again

"And the playground was full of people, so someone would have seen our UnSub snatching Philip from the slide so that rules that out." Elle said

"Again, he would have screamed, no one got near that kid unless he knew them."

"That means Philip knew our UnSub, he trusted him." Finished Hotch, he walked over to the slide, the last place that Philip Carson had been seen alive and where his body had been found.

"So Philip slides down, hits the bottom, sees someone he knows," Morgan started to say

"And he runs to the person." Elle looked around carefully, the parking lot for the playground wasn't very far from the slide, depending on how agile the UnSub was, he or even she could have easily gotten Philip to a car quickly before Mrs. Carson went to retrieve him. "he says something to get Philip to the car and of course Philip has no problem going with the UnSub, he's already in the boy's trust." Hotch was just about to reply to Elle when his phone rang, he nodded his apologies and answered the phone away from the group so not to distract his team.

"Hotch,"

"Sir, it's Garcia," for a second Hotch was surprise, it was a rare occurrence for Garcia to be very professional when calling, more so with Morgan than anyone else on the team, but even Hotch wasn't off the hook when it came to Garcia's light hearted tendencies, something he rarely if ever complained about, partly because it added some humor and enjoyment to the team, especially during stressful cases, and partly because it did the same for Garcia herself.

But for some reason, the computer tech thousands of miles away in Virginia was more than a little serious, much more than Hotch was used to.

"Garcia, is everything all right?"

"Well sir, I wasn't sure how to proceed with some information I found, I was hoping you would have a better idea." She paused for a second before continuing "Morgan asked me to see if there was any connection between the kids, and a little while ago, Reid called saying that Gideon wanted Paris added to my search."

"That sounds right, Paris is as much a potential target as anyone."

"Paris's original birth certificate was sealed after he was born, it took some doing, but I was able to unseal it, it made me curious, I was wondering why it was sealed and well…I'm not sure what to do with the information."

"What do you mean?"

"Sir, I really think you should see the documents before anyone else, I don't think this would qualify as a problem, but it is definitely something you need to see." Hotch sighed, realizing that Garcia wasn't going to give anymore information than that, at least not over the phone now.

"I'll head back to the Northeast Unit, I'll call you when I get there and then you can fax me anything you have all right?"

"Yes sir, and sir? When you see what I'm talking about you'll realize why I was hesitant with all of this."

"Thanks Garcia," shaking his head, Hotch hung up the phone. He turned to Morgan and Elle who were standing with Williamson, while Elle was filling Morgan and Williamson in on what she and Hotch had learned about Josie Marshal. All three looked up when Hotch approached them,

"Hey, everything all right?" Morgan asked

"That was Garcia, she thinks she found something, but she isn't sure if it's significant or not," Elle and Morgan exchanged a look, Hotch was being vague, they knew it and he obviously knew they knew it. "I'm going to head back to the station, read over what she's sending me."

"Can you find your way back all right?" Williamson asked,

"Not a problem," Hotch gave a nod

"Whatever you do, don't listen to that damn GPS, it'll take you all around the city 'fore it'll finally tell you to turn around and go back the way you came. A twenty minute drive will easily turn into a four hour grand tour of Las Vegas." Williamson cautioned,

"Thanks," Hotch replied and headed off to the waiting SUV he and Elle had taken.

Though Morgan and Elle were confused as to his behavior, the two shifted their focus back on the case itself. Elle turned to Williamson, thinking aloud,

"Detective, would it be possible to go to the bookstore where they found the King boy?" She asked; Williamson nodded

"Yeah, it's about fifteen minutes from here," he paused "I will caution you though, the owner hasn't been taking this well. He had grown to be close with Mike 'cause the boy was in his bookstore nearly everyday. He was plannin' on hiring Mike on a part time basis. He was the one that found him."

* * *

><p>AN: I am really sorry these chapters tend to be really short. For one thing the fic doesnt really flow into perfect chapters, so I had to make do with really short ones, and for another thing, when I wrote this, I based how it flowed not only on a typical Criminal minds episode where the scene changes constantly, but also on the three Max Allen Collins books that were written for Criminal Minds, they are great little paperbacks with stories that I really wish were made into an episode because they are really well written and easy to picture happening. If you guys get a chance to check them out, its worth it, especially if you are as big a fan of the show as I am. Anyways, that's the reasoning behind the short chapters, I am sorry.


	13. Chapter 13

Back in Norster, Hotch walked over to the fax machine awaiting Garcia's fax, which she promised was on its way. The first document to come through was Paris's second birth certificate, with no mention of either parents, but had mention of the doctor who delivered him and the hospital's social worker.

But it was the second document to come through…the original birth certificate, with Paris's birthmother's name written clearly on the paper. Hotch nearly dropped the documents in his hand. Quickly he looked around the office wondering who of his team was there… and caught sight of Gideon; Reid and JJ were nowhere in sight, but he heard Paris shout out:

"Check!" from inside Williamson's office and he had a feeling that Reid was still talking to Paris. Gideon looked up and met Hotch's gaze. The older agent quickly walked over to Hotch and slipped off his glasses.

"Everything all right?" he asked. Hotch glanced around once more, before moving to a quiet corner of the station, where they wouldn't be overheard. Once he was sure of this, Hotch began to fill Gideon in on everything Garcia had found.

At first Gideon looked stunned, he looked over the paperwork that Hotch presented and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"Are we sure about this?" he ventured to ask.

"Document wise, yes; Garcia's digging deeper, but she was so sure that she called me."

"Does anyone else know?" Hotch shook his head

"No one." He paused "I don't think it is anything to be concerned with right now, but Jason this does put Paris into a different category, and they both need to be told."

Gideon nodded, but raised a hand cautiously

"But right now we need everyone's focus on this case, so I think for sanities sake we keep this quiet. The only change this could bring is distraction from the case."

"She gave him up, but do you really think this lawyer had more say in the decision then we realize?" Hotch said, thinking.

"Possibly according to this, he had power of attorney and was responsible for her care for the time being."

"If what the documents from the social worker are true, the lawyer encouraged her to check out barley eight hours after giving birth, completely against medical advice. The social worker and the nurses tried to get her to hold the baby but" Hotch looked down at the paper "but she repeated over and over that the baby was dead and that they had killed her baby. No one is sure how that notion came about, because all the nurses explained to her that the baby was weak, but he was alive. But she would not listen."

"None of this adds up Hotch…Right now we have two focuses…catching the unsub and protecting Paris. If we're right…Paris could easily be the next target. I've got Reid talking to him, I do not want Paris out of our sight. Williamson may not be convinced that Paris is on our unsub's list, but I am not taking any chances."

"Check!" Paris's voice echoed from the office again followed by a groan from Reid.

"Sounds like a good game," Hotch noted chuckling a little

"It's a rematch from a rematch, Reid has finally met his match." Gideon replied taking the papers from Hotch, folding them, and slipping them in his pocket. "We did learn one thing from talking to Paris that Reid found interesting, a key piece of the profile."

"What's that?" The two agents were walking towards the board, Gideon looked over at Hotch

"Details," Gideon replied "details only someone extremely close to the kids could know. Grant Dennerson was left at the Grand Gamers Domain, near a skeet-ball machine. This was not coincidence. According to Paris, skeet-ball was Grant's favorite game and the Grand Gamers Domain? It was his favorite arcade. Paris believes very few people knew those facts about Grant." Hotch nodded his understanding.

JJ walked over to the two senior agents her phone pressed tightly to her ear she was frowning and nodding every now and then. When she reached Hotch and Gideon she held up a finger

"Ok…ok Garcia I'll tell them…thanks." She slammed the phone shut and looked at the pair "Garcia says that her systems can find no connection whatsoever linking the victims." Gideon looked over at Williamson's office

"We have one connection, Paris and Grant…something links them together and therefore links them to the other kids. We just need to dig deeper to find out what that is." Gideon paused and looked at JJ "call Garcia back, have her get the names of any and all adults Paris and Grant have contact with, then have her see if there is a repeating name." JJ nodded and walked off again, her phone back to her ear.

Just then, Hotch's phone went off, he unclipped it from his belt and answered it,

"Yes?" he said. Across town Elle, Williamson, and Morgan were just leaving the Vernon Bookstore, where Mike King had practically lived at and had been found.

"Hotch, it's Elle, we're just leaving the bookstore now, we spoke to the owner and he mentioned something interesting."

"What's that?"

"Well the report said that Mike was found with a book in his hand and Williamson mentioned that everyone assumed the unsub picked it at random. But the owner doesn't believe so."  
>"Why?"<p>

"Because, the book was Dracula…it was Mike King's favorite book, but it wasn't his own copy it was the bookstores."

"Could be a coincidence," Hotch replied

"It could be, but Grant was found on the other side of the store, no where near the horror section, he was found in the history section of the store." Elle paused and slipped her seatbelt on as Williamson started the unmarked Ford. "I'm going with my gut on this…this unsub, he knows details about these kids, remember the band-aid with Phillip?" Hotch nodded, remembering that observation. He turned to Gideon and repeated what Elle had just told him.

"Hurry back…I think we're ready for a profile."

"You sure?"

"Definitely."


	14. Chapter 14

"We're looking for a man between the ages of 45 and 60 years of age, he is highly intelligent and has what he considers a deep sense of responsibility and a desire to save children he feels are mistreated or are labeled as outcasts by society. He's old enough that the children respect him as an authority figure, but he is young enough to still be a friend to them and someone they can relate to as either a father figure or even a grandfather figure..." Hotch started.

Norster was packed with officers, space was extremely limited but the small area in front of the boards was reserved for the BAU. Williamson stood off to the side near his office, he had the door shut, to keep Paris from hearing.

"He knows these kids, and they know him. They feel safe with him and have no problem whatsoever with doing what he says, because they believe he would never hurt them. He is someone who protects these kids in situations they might not be able to defend themselves in," Morgan added "so that trust is extremely strong. It is tough to think about, but he most likely works in or around the school systems, or in other strictly kid oriented areas; after school clubs, sports, excreta. This allows him to get to know each kid on a personal level, learn details about them and their lives and gain that trust. He knows specific details about the kids; likes, dislikes, favorite food, now some of that can be researched, but some of the details he seems to know indicate someone extremely familiar with the kids. Teachers, guidance councilors, coaches, excreta; on top of that knowledge, each kid was found with something significant to them on top of being found in places they loved. Mike King was found with Dracula in his hand in his favorite bookstore. Josie Marshall was found in the Biotanenical gardens with crystal red rose in hand. Grant Dennerson was found in his favorite arcade, near his favorite game, in his hand a brand new PSP. Gracie Newton was found in a national forest with a pair of top of the line binoculars and she was positioned so she could easily watch the wildlife walk past her. And finally Phillip Carson, on top of being found in his favorite hiding place and wearing an Incredibles band-aid…his favorite movie, Phillip also had a die-cast model of the bat-mobile. This guy is paying close attention to detail with each kid. And he has no problem financially, the binoculars alone are running $1-2,000."

Reid stood up and cleared his throat looking around at the group of expectant officers; he glanced over at Williamson's office briefly, before turning his attention back to the group.

"Unlike the Atlanta Child Murderer in the late 70s and early 80s, our unsub sees killing as a last resort. If he could find another way to save each of these kids without killing them he would, but he feels he has no other options. Because there is no sexual component to the kidnapping and more specifically the murder itself, he truly does believe that he alone can save each of the kids and is doing so."

Gage raised his hand like he was in school, put it down, then raised it again, older officers chuckled at the rookie, but he ignored them.

"If he believes he's saving these kids why does he kill them? I mean you said it is a last resort, but really… its extreme!" he asked softly

"We agree completely," Gideon noted "but it's the WAY he kills that explains his motives." Elle folded her arms and gazed out at their audience

"Putting the kids to sleep is his way of killing them in the most painless fashion possible. Essentially he sees himself as putting them out of whatever pain he believes them to be in, as merciful as he can…each child just drifts off to sleep."

"Whatever stressor this unsub experienced happened right before the first murder. Whatever it was, it was directly related to a child, possibly an incident resulted in the death of a child or teenager he was close with or felt responsible for. This death was not expected, it was either the result of severe bullying resulting in accidental death or suicide and was a child who faced similar problems that each of the victims experienced up until their own deaths." Hotch explained "it may be a long shot, but I would recommend looking over questionable deaths involving children and teenagers five months ago and prior. Focus on suicides and the events surrounding the deaths."

"Because the age of his oldest victim is fourteen, and all of the other victims have been younger than that. It is safe to bet that the stressor was at least fifteen or sixteen, its possible but unlikely they were older than that." Elle added.

"What makes you say that?" Frances inquired, raising his pen in the air. Morgan took that question

"If he's saving these kids, he probably feels that he failed this one kid in particular. He's making up for it by "saving" kids before they can reach the point where he can no longer protect them. Since fourteen is the last year of middle school for most kids, we can be certain that high school is the point where he is unable to protect."

Gideon rubbed his hands together and took a deep breath, before facing the group, his main gaze was at Williamson, and past him towards the office where Paris was situated.

"One thing we can also be sure of, he is not done. He is not taking these kids at random. Each child that was taken has been chosen for a specific reason something that each of the children have in common and when we find out what that commonality is, we will find our unsub. Somehow he is connected to each of the kids." Gideon paused "this type of unsub is one of the most dangerous. He sees himself as an Angel of Mercy and he will let nothing stop him from completing his task. If he has a child, but is arrested, he will make sure that the mission is carried out. When he is found two key details will happen…if he does have another child…he will go quietly, he will allow himself to be arrested to turn attention to himself and prevent anything from interfering with putting the child to sleep. However on the opposite side of that if he puts up a resistance in his arrest, that means he has not had time to carry out the murder. In both cases, once we find this UnSub, the focus needs to be entirely on finding the child in question, we will have a limited amount of time to find them. He WILL be near the child, in the same location…we believe he is watching and staying close until the children are each found."


	15. Chapter 15

In Eric's office, Paris paused the computer game he was playing and slowly walked to the window and peaked out through the blinds. The station was packed with cops, but most were moving towards the exit, the BAU must've been finished with giving their profile. He kind of wished Eric had let him listen to the profile, not only would it have been interesting, but if the FBI seriously thought that the killer was somebody that he and Grant knew, then hearing the profile Paris might be able to tell them who they were really looking for. He watched as Eric looked over at him and gestured with his eyes alone for Paris to go back to his game.

When Paris rolled his eyes, Eric walked into his office a serious look on his face, at first Paris expected another lecture, but Eric just seemed too tired and stressed to make note of Paris's behavior.

"Paris, I've got to take a ride to Spring Mountains, stay here and play your game ok?" Paris nodded, trying not to roll his eyes. He un-paused his game and concentrated on where his peasants were, partially ignoring Eric. "Paris…" He looked up at Eric, "I'm sorry I didn't let you listen in, I just don't think it was something you needed to hear, you know way to much about this case as it is…it's not…"

"Not what? Healthy?" Paris answered, clicking the mouse so his group of knights attacked his enemy's castle. Eric looked ready to reply, but decided against getting into an argument with Paris.

"Hey, you're the one that felt the need to attack your classmate, if you hadn't you could be at school right now." He paused "if you need me, call my cell, no guarantee with cell service being what it is out there, leave me a message." Paris didn't answer, he went back to his computer game and didn't even notice that Eric had left.

Paris allowed himself to get lost in his game of conquer and destroy, and didn't take his eyes off the screen until he decided he was extremely thirsty, pausing the game again, he wandered through the bullpen, towards the water cooler in the hall. He was just filling up his cup when he heard the main door to the stationhouse open and looked up.

"Well, howdy Xander," the newcomer called

"Hi," Paris replied, recognizing the man that entered and allowing a grin to spread across his face.

"How are you?"

"Ok," Paris paused "I guess you heard 'bout the fight,"

"Rumors did wander over to my desk…" there was a pause "do you want to talk about it?"

Paris nodded

"Only if you aren't busy."

"I keep telling you guys, I'm never to busy to talk, can I spring you from here long enough to grab a soda?"

* * *

><p>Sorry this was such a short chapter, for flow reasons it had to be.<p> 


	16. Chapter 16

Thursday March 9th 2006

3:45 PM

Northeastern Unit, Las Vegas Nevada

Greg Francis, while pacing around his temporary desk hit the redial on his cell for the twelfth time, getting the voicemail of Eric.

While his police issue had virtually no cell service in the Spring Mountains, his personal phone had the best service no matter where it was and Francis was not only surprised, but frustrated that he couldn't reach his friend and fellow captain. The lab techs had found a partial print on the PSP found with Grant Dennerson and had sent the print to Quantico for the FBI's computer tech to compare to her database.

Francis was about to try yet again, when Eric walked in, followed by all the agents. Running his hand through his graying hair, Francis greeted his friend with a head shake.

"Eric, I've been calling you for an hour, what gives?" Raising an eyebrow, Williamson reached to his holster and unclipped his police issue.

"You know there's no service in the Spring Mountains,"

"Yeah, but your nokia usually handles that middle of nowhere pretty well, it just goes straight to voicemail." Williamson reached into his pocket where his personal phone usually sat and was surprised to discover it was gone, before remembering…

"Damn, I gave it to Paris." He thought this over "he should've picked it up…you said it kept going to voicemail?" Francis nodded, Williamson rolled his eyes "He is determined to worsen my migraine today…" he paused "give me a second to retrieve my phone from the kid."

But when Eric pushed his office door open, he was surprised to see it was empty; Paris's book bag sat in the same chair it had when he had left his foster son and on his computer was the game Paris had been playing, but there was no sign of Paris.

Frowning, Williamson huffed out of his office, hoping that he wasn't jumping to conclusions as he headed to the restrooms.

"Eric what's wrong?" Francis asked, confusions spread across his face. Gideon, who had been watching the discussion between the two captains, now watched with a worried thought on his mind.

"Probably nothing," Eric replied walking into the men's room, exiting a few seconds later, his face in a permanent scowl. "Rob," he called to the young rookie. Gage looked up at his boss, wondering what he did. "You didn't happen to see Paris leave did you?"

Gage nodded slowly, looking around for help, by now, everyone in the station was watching.

"He was at the water cooler getting a drink last I saw him."

Williamson's scowl softened into a confused look

"When?"

"About an hour sir I wasn't paying attention, I assumed he went back into your office. I'm sorry sir."

Williamson nodded

"It's all right, not your job to babysit him." Williamson turned to Francis, "I'm going to kill him…all this going on and he pulls this again."

"Captain,"

Both Williamson and Francis looked up as their title was called, another rookie, this one from the Downtown district stepped forward. Williamson and Francis exchanged a look

"What Mitch" Francis said, impatiently, Eric had enough stress going on right now and Paris was pushing it badly.

"I probably should've said something earlier, but I saw Paris talking to someone at the entrance, about an hour ago."

Williamson and Francis exchanged a look, and Gideon looked at Hotch quickly

"Why didn't you say something?" Francis bellowed "Mitch we have a nut-job running around the city kidnapping and killing kids! Paris is a kid! What the hell where you thinking!"

"They were talking about school work and classes, I assumed he was a teacher or something." Williamson fell into an empty chair, feeling dizzy. "It was that older guy that was in here the other day, talking to Brown."

Now Williamson looked up quickly,

"James? He was here?" Williamson asked…as he rubbed his temple

"Yeah, he had a briefcase, told Paris he was dropping off some paperwork for you."

"What in the world would he have left to show me?"

Mitch was about to answer, when Hotch's phone rang loudly, his eyes still on the conversation between Williamson, Francis, and the rookie, he answered it.

"Yeah Garcia?"

"Sir, I found the connection between Paris and Grant, the adult connection." Hotch took a deep breath

"I'm putting you on speakerphone Garcia," he paused "can you hear us?"

"Yes sir,"

"Good, repeat what you just said." he finished a hard look at Williamson, Gideon and Hotch exchanged a look, Gideon knew that what they had been worried about had happened, the Angel of Mercy had Paris and it was only a matter of moments before Williamson would have no choice but to admit it.

"I found the adult connection between Paris and Grant." Garcia repeated. At first Williamson's worried look shifted to one of anger, he had made it clear that Paris was just causing his own trouble and had nothing to do with the case, but as Garcia's words sunk in, that shifted back to concern.

"Go ahead,"

"Grant's guidance councilor, he works part time at Adam's Elementary school as a Middle School representative."

Williamson's eyes went wide as he exchanged a look with Francis Gideon watched the pair carefully.

"What else Garcia" Hotch pushed

"Guys, I was able to find a way to connect this guy to almost all the kids, minus Mike King, but even so I can hazard a guess how he knew Mike King. Cramer spoke at Josie Marshals' school about middle school and her parents were in the process of moving so Josie could attend Hoover Middle School because of the guidance councilor there."

"James Cramer," Williamson breathed, holding his head in his hands "he worked for DCF for like 20 years before he retired to be a guidance councilor, he was Philip Carlson's caseworker, he's the one who seized Philip from his birthparents."

Gideon narrowed his eyes at the weary captain

"That's three of the victims, four if you count Paris. Paris did not wander off Captain." he said shortly.

"I cant believe Cramer is the one…he loves kids, we went to high school and college together, he's dedicated his life to kids…he'd never do this."

"I think I found the stressor," JJ called rushing into the room holding a printout from a newspaper "Captain does this look familiar?" she asked handing the sheet to him. Williamson looked it over and nodded

"Angie Potter…" he said softly "she killed herself last year, 15 years old…"

"Did she know Cramer?" Williamson took a deep breath "Captain," Hotch said more forceful

"She lived in this district, she went to Hoover Middle for Junior high. The coroner ruled her death a suicide, but I had to know why, so I grilled James, Angie was a happy kid until she entered seventh grade, she was the target of bullies and teasing, it only escalated through eighth grade. James tried to help her before things spiraled out of control, but the school refused to admit it was anything more than kids being kids. She lasted through ninth grade, but a week into her first semester as a sophomore." his voice trailed off

"Apparently these so called kids took teasing to a whole new level. The girls she had gym with waited until the teacher wasn't in the locker room, convinced the boy's gym class to go into the locker room while Angie was in the shower, the girls pulled all curtains exposing her to the everyone in the locker room. Every one of those girls who had a cell phone snapped pictures and videos and posted them online. Angie…well, she went into her parent's medicine cabinet and took everything pill like she could find and washed them down with bleach, she wanted the job done quickly." Francis finished hanging his head. "It hit Cramer especially hard, he had tried so hard to protect her, but that idiotic school wouldn't listen to him when they could have helped, while she was at the middle school."

"If anyone values the life of a kid it's James, he would never do this." Williamson said, more forcibly then before, though the surety in his voice was gone.

"The profile," Gideon replied "he's protecting them, he doesn't want to experience another Angie Porter, end their suffering gently before they can be hurt or hurt themselves." Gideon looked at his team, before giving Williamson a hard look "and it is very likely that he will do the same to Paris."


	17. Chapter 17

Paris couldn't help but stare wide eyed at his surroundings, the house was huge and he had only seen the foyer and the hallway leading towards the kitchen.

Mr. Cramer, being the guidance councilor he was, knew something was bothering Paris and Grant's death was only part of the whole picture, so he had gone back into the station after buying Paris a coke, to let some of the other cops who had stayed behind that he was taking Paris home.

Being one of Eric's best friends and their friendship known by all, Paris knew it would be no problem for Mr. Cramer to get permission.

He had wanted to call Eric though but Mr. Cramer had done so, beating him to it and according to Mr. Cramer, Eric had thought it was the best idea he had heard.

Paris figured it was because it meant he wouldn't be in the way, but through Mr. Cramer, Eric apparently just thought Paris spending all his time in the station, was going to earn the both of them a lecture from Lori, on top of Paris getting underfoot and distracting the FBI, even if he didn't mean to.

Though, Paris was still surprised that Eric had given his permission…after all, Paris figured he was in groundedville forever, instead, Eric was letting him go to a place he knew was the next best thing to GGD or the Game Works.

"Xander?" Paris grinned, Mr. Cramer was one of the very few adults who had always called him by his nickname, despite knowing his real name and admiring it. "X you like pizza right?" Mr. Cramer called from the kitchen, far from the foyer, where Paris still stood, gaping at the exquisite mansion.

"Yes sir." Paris answered swiftly

"Any particular topping?"

Paris followed the voice towards the kitchen

"Actually I prefer it plain, y'know just cheese," he replied walking past a number of closed doors.

One however caught his attention, it was open slightly he started to peek inside, curiosity getting the better of him, when Cramer appeared in the hall.

"Plain? Who would've thought, I would've pegged you for a pepperoni kinda guy." Paris made a face, "or not," Cramer reached over and gently shut the door, he noticed Paris's curiosity, but brushed off the oddness "this house belonged to my late uncle, he's been gone a year and I'm still trying to sort out the mess he left, rooms full of paperwork, paintings, antiques, books, you name it so I'm taking it one room at a time, trying to keep all the doors closed until I sort out everything."

The reasoning seemed logical enough, but it still made Paris curious, something was behind that door that Mr. Cramer obviously didn't want him to see.

After dinner, Cramer took Paris to what he called the entertainment room, inside was a literally a home theater, an in focus machine was set up with a DVD player, Xbox 360, Playstation 1 and 2, Game Cube, N64, Super Nintendo and Nintendo, and more games and movies than Paris had ever seen in his life.

"Wooow." He breathed staring intently at the systems "this is amazing!" Cramer grinned and nodded

"If you get bored with the games and movies, the library is right next door, with a decent collection if I do say so myself."

Paris laughed, he loved to read sure…but this…he could go to a library anytime and read any day how many opportunities would there be to have access to so many video games on a huge projector screen no less.

"I cant believe this."

"Grant said the same thing when he saw it, blew him away." Cramer said "well, I have some paperwork to go over for the school, will you be ok here by yourself for a while?" Paris nodded, his biggest worry was going to be which system to attack first. "Have fun, I'll be back to check on you in a bit." And with that Cramer left the room.

Quickly, Paris closed his eyes and simply pointed to the system he would conquer first, which turned out to be the Game Cube, looking at the games he found his favorite game cube game, Geist. Without wasting a second he put the small disc into the system and with the provided wave-bird wireless controller began playing.

He had been playing his favorite game for only five minutes, when a thought crossed his mind, what Mr. Cramer had said about Grant being impressed by the game room too.

That didn't make any sense, a few days before he went missing, Grant had been hanging out at Paris's after school and they were comparing teachers. Grant had mentioned a rumor he had heard about Mr. Cramer being loaded and having a mansion that was more like a funhouse then a home. Grant, knowing that Eric and Cramer were long time friends, had asked Paris if he had ever been to Mr. Cramer's mansion and had been surprised when Paris admitted that he hadn't.

Paris felt his stomach drop. That conversation had taken place three days before Grant went missing.

The boys had seen each other multiple times between that day and the last day Paris would see his best friend, if Grant had been to Mr. Cramer's house during that time, he would have told Paris, he wouldn't have held anything back. And besides…why would Grant be at Mr. Cramer's house to begin with, it didn't make any sense.

Paris being there was logical. Mr. Cramer was Eric's best friend and had grown up with Eric and Leslie as the three lived in the same neighborhood.

Paris paused the game and quietly climbed out of the movie theater like seat that lined the room. He wasn't an FBI profiler at least not yet but Paris knew to trust his instincts, something didn't feel right about any of this, why would Cramer say Grant had been in the house? When Paris knew for a fact that he couldn't have been prior to his disappearance, it didn't make any sense.

He wandered down the hall towards the kitchen, hoping to find a glass of milk to calm his nerves down, hoping he wasn't jumping to conclusions here.

On his way to the kitchen, Paris noticed Mr. Cramer's cell phone sitting on a hall table. Taking a reassuring deep breath, Paris opened the flip phone and checked the last number that had been called, none of the numbers he recognized, none were Eric's other cell, the station, or even Eric's desk phone. If Cramer had called Eric, he had not used his cell to do so.

It made Paris suspicious, but he couldn't grasp why Cramer would tell him that he had called Eric when he probably hadn't. Mr. Cramer had been really hospitality, but Paris knew he had to listen to his gut something wasn't right with this.

"I'll just call Uncle Eric…if he asks if I'm having fun, then I'll know I'm just being paranoid."

Paris reached into his pocket and tried to call Eric's phone, but…but it there was no signal, which struck him as really odd there was at least two towers nearby and the nokia had the best service of all the cell phones in the family.

Paris let out a wide yawn…suddenly he felt very tired, he could barely keep his eyes open. His instincts were screaming at him, reminding him that the situation he was in is not right nothing about this situation is safe and if he couldn't get in touch with his uncle, via calling him, he have to get Eric's attention another way. But how, that was the question?

Drowsiness was taking over him quickly, Paris could barely see, let alone think, but he had to figure something out, Paris hated to believe it but…but what if Mr. Cramer was the one, the one who had sent five kids, including Paris's best friend to an early death.

If this was all just a misunderstanding, Paris was fully prepared to get in trouble over it, but if he was right and didn't do something.

Quickly Paris turned the GPS application in Eric's phone on. Despite the lack of a signal the GPS would still send out a beacon and if the FBI's tech person was paying attention, he or she would zero in on it.

By now Eric had to have remembered that Paris had his phone and if there was really cause to be alarmed, they would be watching for a sign of the phone's signal.

It had enough battery life, so he didn't have that to worry about, Paris's only worry was where to hide the device so Mr. Cramer did not find it. A potted plant, just outside of the kitchen worked, it's thick ferns would hide the phone perfectly and protect it from the dirt as well.

Barely able to stand at this point, Paris made his way to the game room, reaching the chair seconds before passing out.


	18. Chapter 18

Sorry for the mix up folks, added the wrong chapter the other day, this is the correct chapter 18, 19 will also be up.

* * *

><p>"The profile fits,"<p>

"But why Paris?" Eric argued "there is no reason James would hurt Paris, he has known the kid since Leslie brought him home. I'm still not convinced that James is guilty of anything more than caring for kids!"

Gideon rubbed his temple, he couldn't understand how Williamson could be so blind to the evidence right in front of him.

"Eric," Francis spoke up "look I think we've got to listen to the Feds on this, something isnt right."

"Why Paris?" Williamson said loudly to his friend "give me one good explanation how Paris fits into this whole thing? So he got into a fight today, that doesn't mean he fits the profile of the other kids. So he was friends with one of them it's all a goddamn coincidence. Do you really thing that Paris is going to get so depressed he'll take his own life? He's ten for cryin' out loud"

Francis sighed and rubbed his temple, before looking at Gideon and Hotch. The look in his eyes told the BAU that the captain was close to giving up convincing his friend and fellow captain.

But Francis surprised the room by refusing to do just that. He shook his head at Williamson and looked to a couple of uniforms from his district.

"Why don't you guys take a ride over to Cramer's apartment, see if you can get him to come in. Tell him we have a lead concerning Grant and Philip and we need his help." The two cops nodded "tell him to call my cell if he acts like he's suspicious."

As the two uniforms left, Williamson shook his head

"we're being paranoid." He grumbled "and wasting our time." But the confidence was gone from his voice.

A silence filled the room, which lasted for just a minute or two, as Morgan's phone went off, causing Williamson, Francis, and some of the other cops in the room to jump. The whole station was on edge and it was only getting worse.

"Go Garcia,"

"Guys," Garcia's voice filled the station, her normal lighthearted tone had been replaced with a rarely seen serious one "the GPS on that phone number you sent me, it just turned on." All eyes in the station went from Morgan's phone to Williamson. His face went pale and he slumped to his desk.

"Paris…" he muttered

"Where's the signal coming from Garcia?" Hotch spoke up, moving closer to Morgan.

"just outside the city limits, 1020 Munroe road."

Francis raised an eyebrow; he looked down at Williamson before turning to the BAU

"Munroe Road…that doesn't make any sense. Why would Cramer go way out there with Pa-"

"My god…" Williamson spoke up "James's uncle Leo died last year left him the house and hundreds of millions of dollars...the house is out that way."

Without waiting for orders, the entire room began to maneuver. The uniforms and detectives made a beeline for the doors as Francis began dialing his own phone to call back his two uniforms, so they could meet the teams at 1020 Munroe.

"If the GPS was just activated," Morgan started to say

"That means Paris knows something is wrong." Gideon replied "he knew we'd have someone watching for any kind of signal from the phone. He was probably waiting until he was sure about the situation."

"Cramer isnt going to stick to his pattern now." Elle spoke up "he's going to have to move fast." The team was rushing to the waiting SUVs. Hotch slid into the driver seat of one of the Yukon, Gideon to the passenger seat, while Elle slid into the back. Reid and Morgan were already ahead of them in the unmarked Ford speeding after the procession of marked and unmarked police cruisers.

"He wont stick to his usual pattern but one thing isnt going to change." Gideon replied

"What's that?"

"He will kill Paris in a way that's painless and quick." He paused "if Paris activated his uncle's GPS then the clock has already begun to count down. We don't have much time, Paris doesn't have much time."

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><p>AN: Just to give you guys a heads up the next few chapters are going to get shorter, however to keep a riot from occurring, I will update more often, there will be at least two chapters each uploaded sometimes a couple more to flow correctly. You will all see why I kept each chapter so short. Thanks for all the wonderful review I have received they mean the world to me!


	19. Chapter 19

Friday March 10th 2006

9:06 AM

Former home of Leonardo Cramer. 1020 Munroe Rd.

Just outside the city limits of Las Vegas NV.

Cramer was in panic mode. He hadn't expected the ambient sleeping pill he's crushed up and slipped into Paris's dinner to hit the boy so quickly. He had estimated that the dose was weak, it would give Paris three, maybe even four hours to enjoy the video games before he would start to feel sleepy. Cramer hadn't expected to go into the game-room to check on Paris and find the boy slumped in one of the chairs, out like a light.

He had panicked at first, Cramer knew Paris had some allergies and he had been scrambling to remember if any of Paris's allergies were drug related. Of course it was then Cramer realized he had given Paris the same amount he had given Grant, who was at least fifty pounds heavier than Paris.

As if to add insult to injury the chatter over his police scanner had increased and there was only one subject floating between the cops and the dispatchers, his name, his address, and that he was not to be approached until the FBI was on scene.

Anyone else in this position would be panicking, running for the hills. Not James Cramer, he had a duty to finish. Let the Feds come as long as Paris was no longer forced to suffer this world James's capture wouldn't be the biggest concern he had.

Cramer did have to curse the timing however, he had plans for Paris's last few hours on earth to be as special as could be. He had planned to take the boy to the Hoover Dam since he had heard during a conversation with Eric that Paris had never been to the Dam. Cramer knew that it was a humbling sight, he had always enjoyed it and knew Paris would too.

Then they would explore an abandoned little old west town that Cramer's uncle had owned. It was not far from the famous dam and given that Paris had a real love for things spooky and historic it would be the perfect little place for him to explore and experience, before returning to the city limits so Paris could see his mother's grave again.

It would be at the grave of Leslie Smith, Cramer planned to put Paris to sleep. He had thought over and over the best place to leave Paris and he knew the one place (at least lately) Paris had been most at ease and would have picked for himself…was his mother's final resting place.

Of course that had been the plan, a plan that looked like it was going to fall through. He had been so careful…Cramer couldn't figure out how they had discovered him.

Cramer sighed, he would just find out when and if the time came, if there was one thing he had learned from watching all those cop dramas, cops liked to tell the suspect exactly how their brilliant detective work had solved the case.

Even if that was the case, there was no reason to make it easy to connect him, none of the officers would understand his good intentions. He had been saving all of the children, each one of them had been teased and bullied, if not by their peers, by their own families, it was only a matter of time before each one reached a breaking point; a breaking point which could be taking their own life or taking the lives of others.

Cramer knew the statistics, he knew the facts, how many serial killers had the FBI themselves tracked down whose childhood had been an endless day after day of bullying, teasing, hurt? Excluding those sadists and sociopaths who were just born to kill, had those normal men and women not been the targets of their peers and families, there might be fewer serial killers.

And suicides, how many times a day did Cramer read about someone somewhere taking their own life, whose to say that the depression and decision that they needed to die could not be linked to a childhood filled with cruelty bestowed upon them

"It makes perfect sense" Cramer mumbled to himself as he lifted Paris gently from the chair. Even Paris fell into that category. Cramer knew how much bullying Paris faced, from his peers whom he far suppressed in intelligence, to that idiotic woman, Victoria, Paris's caseworker who had prevented Leslie Smith from officially adopting the boy and who was still fighting Eric and Lori Williamson as they tried to take full and legal custody of Paris. Not to mention…she had forced Paris to go to the middle school for math and English, not to help Paris, not to encourage his intelligence and help him see his potential, but to prove that Paris was some kind of super genius kid, her ticket to glory and fame. It had only been with Cramer's pushing and threats, had Victoria backed off and allowed Paris to return to elementary school.

Not that it mattered, Paris needed his mother, Eric and Lori were wonderful people, but neither knew how to really handle a child as special as Paris, they submitted easily to the whim of Victoria, they had allowed Paris to be subjected to middle school long before he was mentally prepared for it, all because Victoria had claimed it was in Paris's best interest.

Poor Grant, he had been a caring and intelligent kid, but the school only saw a troublemaker, not a boy with a learning disability, who had been subjected to his father's physical, emotional, and verbal abuse…and had watched as that abuse was turned on his mother…killing her.

The school had insisted on ignoring the bullying that Grant was put through each day, forgetting the boy's painful past.

Each day Grant faced at school only reflected more so in his home life, he had been through so many foster families, Cramer knew it was a wonder he had not been put in a group home permanently.

Grant had five years…five years left of the system before that system would throw him to the curb expecting him to find his own way in life, if Grant had made it that far at least. Cramer never had Grant pegged to take his own life, but he knew revenge lurked in Grant's eyes, he knew the uncontrollable temper Grant had… and that had been Cramer's fear…Grant pulling a Columbine, that was why he was so desperate to get Grant out of the district and into the private academy in Boulder Springs.

So many children…so many who needed him. Cramer had taken care of the ones he knew needed him, but he knew there had to be so many others. He had been lucky with the five soon to be six he had rescued.

Two of them had been by chance…had his former co-workers not kept him in the loop on certain cases he never would have learned about little Gracie and her awful home life. And if he hadn't decided to go to the high school football game with his friend and fellow guidance councilor, Cramer never would have seen nor learned about Mike's ungrateful and bully of a father.

No one…not the schools, nor the parents seemed to notice nor care about the early warning signs.

Angie had been such a sweet and caring kid, she had wanted to be a kindergarten teacher, if not that a doctor, or maybe an author. She had big dreams and never had a cruel word to say to anyone, no matter how little they returned her kindness.

Cramer had seen the warning signs, but he hadn't done anything about it and that fact still haunted him he could have saved Angie. After her death he had tried to get criminal charges brought against the girls who had exposed Angie, but the school refused to support him, even Eric Williamson, his close friend and detective said that it would be nearly impossible, Angie's death had been ruled a suicide, there was nothing that could be done.

No…not if James Cramer had anything to do with it, they would all see, everyone would see.

He had reached his study by now, the room Paris had nearly found earlier. James knew Paris was a naturally curious kid, he also knew that Eric had high hopes for Paris in life. The first time James had spoken to Paris's class he had talked to the kids individually, it was the first James learned what Paris wanted to be when he grew up…a FBI agent. This of course had been while Paris's mother Leslie was still alive, she had encouraged this dream, anyone who truly knew Paris would see quickly that he had the potential to be great at anything he did.

It was a shame that no one ever saw the Paris that Cramer and the Williamsons saw, not one of Paris's peers gave him the chance to shine.

In Cramer's arms, Paris groaned and Cramer hurried his step through the false bookcase and up to the old servants quarters at the top of the house. It was the perfect place to hide Paris until…well until it was time to finish what had been started.

* * *

><p>AN: Here come the succession of short chapters.


	20. Chapter 20

"Mom?...Mooom? MOM, MOM, MOM!" Paris yelled. Suddenly his bedroom filled with light and he winced from the sudden brightness, before he knew it, Leslie was holding him tight and rocking him gently,

"Paris, it's all right honey, it was just a bad dream." She stroked his hair "everyone gets them, you know that."

"It was…it was just so real…"

"They usually are sweetie." She hugged him tight "do you want to tell me about it?" Paris shook his head "do you want a glass of milk?" he nodded "strawberry, chocolate, plain, or gravy?"

Paris grinned and laughed,

"Gravy?" he said "that's gross mom,"

"Hey, just because you want to boring and drink the normal flavors, doesn't mean I cant enjoy a gravy flavored glass of milk."

"Be serious,"

"I'm being very serious; ask your uncle Eric sometime, it was one of our favorite things to do when we were your age, food experiments."

Paris looked at his mom carefully, trying to see a hint of humor on her face, but he was unable to find any, and knowing his uncle like he did, he wouldn't be surprised at his mom and uncle coming up with food concoctions…since his mom loved to cook and used Paris as her guinea pig.

"I'm going to ask Uncle Eric." Paris promised

"Ask away, if he denies it I'm sure Auntie Lori will back me up." Leslie stood up and held out her hand "come on sweetie, whatever flavor you want you get."

Paris reached out and took his mother's outstretched hand. He followed her out of his room and down the hall towards the kitchen.

Oddly however, Paris felt like he was moving half the speed of his mom, she was getting further and further down the hall…which also seemed like it was getting longer and longer.

"Mom…" Paris called "mom, wait for me…mom?" suddenly the hall began to get darker, the light from the kitchen went out, plunging the hall into total darkness. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Paris could just make out the outline of his mom, before…like the light, her silhouette vanished and Paris was alone… "Mom! Mom, come back! MOOOOOM!"

Paris opened his eyes slowly and looked around. He wasn't in his house…he wasn't even in Eric and Lori's house…he had never seen this room before. It was small, yet warm…a small portal window like from a ship allowed some light into the room.

He tried to raise his head, but suddenly he felt like his head was made of lead…he couldn't lift it off the pillow, not just his head…his whole body felt stiff, it took a lot of effort to lift his arms as he tried to lift his body up, but all the strength was gone from his arms.

The sound of shuffling feet made Paris stop trying to sit up as he listened carefully to the movement, he saw a figure lean over him and through his blurry peripheral vision he could see that it was Mr. Cramer.

"Mr. Cra…Cramer?" his voice was hoarse and he wasn't sure why. Mr. Cramer didn't answer him, instead he patted Paris's head gently "where am I?"

"Shh, it will be over soon Paris." Cramer said, finally answering Paris's question

"What will be over soon?" Paris asked, but he never got his answer, he felt a pinch on his arm

"Just relax X…it will be all right."


	21. Chapter 21

When the team arrived and had blocked off Munroe Drive the Vegas cops were debating on how to storm the house.

"Look, he already knows we're outside and I am sure he already knows WHY we are here. James is not an idiot. We go in hard and take him down." Williamson said loudly to the group of officers,

"But we don't have any proof that Paris is in that house, just that your cell phone is in there, we could be wasting time here." One of the cops said.

Williamson turned to Gideon, hoping the agent would have the best idea.

"By standing here arguing we're wasting time." Gideon pointed out "the last thing on Cramer's mind is getting arrested, his first priority will be to finish what he started. We go in."

James finished putting the final touches on his own version of a bomb. It was primitive, but of course he had only minutes to come up with it.

It would take the FBI and the LVPD a while to find the little room at the top of the stairs hidden behind a bookcase, and since they were on their way to his home to arrest him, James knew he needed a way to quicken putting Paris to sleep.

The injection he gave the boy would start working quickly, but not fast enough, it would lure Paris into a deep sleep, but his body would not begin to shut down in the time James calculated it would take for the authorities to reach him. James also knew, he could not draw attention to the third floor, there had to be no interference though James knew there were so many other children…snatching Paris would be the final act, he knew that going into this. Paris would be the final straw that broke the camel's back.

It was the reason he had not taken Paris at the same time as Grant it would have brought to much attention to the boys and James Cramer would have been automatically suspect number one.

A few items purchased previously at a hardware store served as the bomb. Making this thing, Cramer had felt like MacGyver or something. All of the stuff that he used was simple stuff he had picked up to continue with the renovations.

An old fashion ringing alarm clock he had set the timer, on the tiny hammer, he had fashioned flint which when he tested it…created the exact spark he needed. When the spark was set, it would ignite the rags and papers he had piled around the alarm clock and dusted in lighter fluid.

The idea was not to create a giant fireball, but to create a smoke filled room. Paris would already be unconscious by the time the little fire began, and with luck, Cramer hoped, the smoke would be the death blow, before the boy was cremated.

At least, that's what James hoped would happen, when he thought it over it did sound farfetched, but it was the best plan he could think of at the last second.

With the stage set, James patted Paris's head gently, the drug was beginning to take effect, he could see Paris was struggling to maintain consciousness.

"M…Mr. Cra…" the boy stuttered

"It will be over soon Xander…you'll be in a better place soon…your mom is there waiting for you."

It wouldn't be long now, James could see it in Paris's eyes, the sirens were getting closer, it was show time. He checked the time on the alarm clock once more and quickly made his way out of the room.

Outside, the BAU and the LVPD spilt into groups, ready to storm the house. Donning their vests, Morgan, Reid, Hotch, and Francis headed to the front door, while Elle, Gideon, Williamson and Gage headed to the back. Hotch reached the front door first and banged on it,

"James Cramer…FBI!"

No one answered…after a few seconds of complete silence, Hotch tried the door knob and was surprised to find it was unlocked; he pushed the heavy door open and was hit by the cold air of an air conditioner running at full blast.

Guns drawn, the team headed inside, splitting into pairs, Francis and Hotch went through one doorway to the left, while Reid and Morgan moved towards a set of double French doors, all the doors were wide open, welcoming almost, as if James Cramer had hung a huge welcome sign on all the doorways.

From somewhere in the house, the team could hear music playing, sounding like Beethoven playing on an old turntable record player. Regrouping in what appeared to be the dinning room, they began to follow the music, down a long hallway, towards the only door that appeared to be shut.


	22. Chapter 22

James added another sugar cube to his coffee and carefully took a sip of the piping hot beverage. He had heard the FBI pounding on his door and had heard them enter. He was amused by how easy had he made it for them, leaving his front door unlocked, leaving all the doors in his house open except to the room he now sat in, his uncle's old viola machine blasting out Beethoven's 5th symphony, guiding them his way. _What kind of fool gives up so easily_ James thought to himself, smiling, _that must be what those incompetents must be thinking_. He wondered for a moment, how long it would take those profilers to realize that his giving up so easily was only to distract them from Paris…long enough he hoped, glancing at his watch…five minutes in counting.

Morgan reached the door first and pushed it open, the loud scratchy record jumped as he did so and he pointed his gun in the direction instinctively.

If the record jumping had caught Morgan by surprised, it was nothing compared to the surprise he got when he aimed his gun.

Sitting contently in an armchair, a coffee cup in hand and a pocket watch in the other was James Cramer. He looked up at the team as if it was normal to have the FBI and the LVPD barge into his study.

"James Cramer!" Morgan said loudly

"Yes?" he replied

"Stand up slowly and keep your hands where I can see them."

Cramer raised an eyebrow

"Son there is no need for that, I do not plan on causing a ruckus." He replied, setting his coffee down on the table. He spotted Greg Francis and nodded "Captain Francis, good to see you, how is the family? Has Stephanie taken her SATs yet? I heard the little one Nate is getting ready for his driver ed class, wonderful news. They do grow up so quickly."

Francis was taken aback by Cramer's calmness, he hadn't expected this, he had expected James to be demanding to know what was going on…to be demanding that a mistake had been made.

"Jimmy…" Francis said "did you really kill those five kids?"

Morgan stepped forward quickly and cuffed Cramer, who looked at Francis sternly, almost accusingly

"Someone had to save them….those **six** victims of society's cruelties." Cramer replied, emphasizing the word Six.

That sentence was barely out of Cramer's mouth when Gideon, Williamson, Elle, and Gage burst in, call it bad timing, but Williamson heard the sentence. He went pale and Gage reached out to support his captain.

"Six…no James…you didn't…" he stuttered

"The warnings were all around us Eric…we paid no heed to them…why should the innocent pay for our mistakes? They paid with their suffering and now their suffering has come to an end." Cramer replied simply.

"You Bastard!" Williamson exclaimed and jumped at Cramer, ready to kill his former friend, but was pulled away from Cramer by Hotch and Gage "they were kids…" he muttered. "just kids…"

"James cut the crap! Where is Paris?" Francis bellowed

"Where he belongs…where he will be safe and always welcome, soon to be with the one person on this planet who truly appreciated the gift she was given." Cramer finished as Gage grabbed the man and with the help of other officers led him out towards the waiting squad car as Francis tried to calm Williamson down.

Hotch turned to Gideon and the rest of the team

"He went quietly." he whispered

"Quietly yes," Gideon repeated "but he was trying to drag things out…notice how he kept glancing at his watch?"

"Paris has got to still be alive," Reid said looking around "but he doesn't have much time."

"He's in this house somewhere, everyone split up" Hotch commanded as the team scattered.

"Paris!"

"Paris!"

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><p>A.N: This is what I meant about the chapters being short for a reason, I promise they will be uploaded quickly, but this is why they are so short.<p> 


	23. Chapter 23

Voices…he heard voices…or did he? Paris couldn't tell, the voices sounded like they were far away and muffled…like they were outside.

Maybe he was imaging it…

One thing Paris knew he wasn't imagining was the ticking… tick tock tick tock, but every time Paris tried to look to where the clock was, his eyesight was blurry and no amount of rubbing eased the blurriness.

He tried to sit up, but felt dizzy and still so tired….and cold…very cold

The ticking slowed, beating slowly…

"!" the alarm going off stabbed at Paris's eardrums like a knife, but blinking, Paris was able to see the outline of an old fashion alarm clock he could finally see it…it looked like the one in that movie Hook, the kind Captain Hook had been afraid of, the kind that had the crocodile had swallowed along with the captain's hand.

Paris watched as the hammer hit the bells sounding the alarm, but should they be sparking like that? That wasn't normal…was it?

Paris could smell smoke coming from that corner of the room.

A dream….this had to all be a dream, the room was getting hotter, but Paris still felt cold, ice cold.

"Paris?"

Again the voices…calling his name, were they a dream too?

Morgan and Reid made their way up to the second floor and into what appeared to be a library combined with a study. A large mahogany desk sat against a large bay window, positioned in an authority position. The room was very narrow.

The walls were bookcases that completed the room, there wasn't an inch of space that wasn't covered in bookshelves.

"It's the only room we haven't checked." Morgan pointed out looking around "and I don't see any place he could hide a ten year old kid."

Reid studied the room carefully…something didn't fit… the dimensions of this room didn't fit the rest of the house. Nor did the age of the house…

"It's odd."

"What is?"

"A house this old and this large, the dimensions don't fit."

"What are you talking about kid?"

"The house has three levels; you can see that from the outside, but one staircase leading to the second floor, no way to an attic."

"So?"

"So there should be another set of stairs, there was also two different libraries down on the first floor, why a third?" Reid looked carefully "look at the way the room is…it's smaller than all the others this isn't an original room.

Morgan looked around again, understanding what Reid was talking about, he reached out to pull a book off the shelf and was surprised when the collection of books on the shelf fell to the floor in a group…glued together to resemble a full shelf of hard cover books, it was simply the cardboard image of book bindings.

"Their fake!" he exclaimed, looking at all the shelves "all the books in this room are fake."

"This room was a hallway, it was built to look like another library, it's a camouflage." Reid replied, he looked around as a smell caught his attention "Morgan do you smell that?"

"Smoke"

"Cramer was looking at his watch, like he was waiting for something, something that wasn't us." Reid paused "he's not confident that the drug is going to kill Paris before we find him. He had to have a backup plan that would go off without any help."

"He started a fire!" Morgan finished "Paris!" he began shouting "Paris can you hear us!"

"Paris!" Reid joined in, before a thought hit him. "Morgan…if this room was a part of the hallway then the stairs to the third floor are going to be on the right side."

"How do you figure kid?" Morgan replied, pulling off the fake books

"That window…it's the large bay window you can see from the side of the house." He paused "the stairs have to be hidden behind one of these bookcases!"

"Paris! If you can hear us you need to answer!"

"Morgan, wait" Reid said quietly "listen…you hear that?" faintly, so quiet that the two nearly missed it, was the sound of someone calling 'I'm here.'

"Paris…" Morgan replied. He began shaking the bookcases, looking for one that was loose, none moved. Until he looked down at the carpet "Reid over here, scuff marks on the carpet, this case has been moved."

"The stairs have to behind that!"

"Hotch, Gideon, guys! Quick."

Hotch ran into the room, followed quickly by Gideon, Elle, and Detective Williamson and Francis.

"There has to be a set of stairs behind that bookcase. We need to move it!" Reid exclaimed as Morgan and Francis took hold the bookcase. It took some doing but they were able to move the case, before it crashed to the floor. The books on that particular bookcase were not fake, they were real hardcover novels; it added perfect weight to the bookcases, explaining how Cramer was able to move it alone.

Behind it, was a door and behind that the set of stairs.

Paris could feel the heat getting closer, the fire was licking at his body but Paris wasn't paying attention to that. He could still hear voices calling to him, they were calling his name, but the voices were still faint, but they were getting louder getting closer too.

"I…I'm here..." he stuttered, he wasn't even sure if they could even hear him, he didn't even know if he had said anything or if he was just imagining all of this.

"Paris?"

That voice sounded familiar, where had he heard that voice…his memory was shaking, it was like he couldn't remember anything except his own name, just hints and familiarity, but nothing substantial.

Weakly Paris stood up. He felt so dizzy, the room was spinning and he could barely stand still. Feeling unbalanced, Paris reached out to find anything to hold him up, he saw a desk and reached for it, but somehow missed the desktop even though it was right in front of him.

He hit the floor hard and rubbed his eyes again as he began to see double, two of everything.

"He…help!" he called…hoping whoever was calling him could hear. He heard the sound of pounding feet…as if someone was coming up stairs. Was that where he was? Was he upstairs somewhere? Or were they coming downstairs. Paris couldn't remember, he couldn't figure out his surroundings…

Morgan reached the top of the stairs first, he could hear a child's voice calling from in the room and he could see the smoke billowing from under the doorway, drifting down the stairwell. The door was locked when he tried it.

"Paris?" he called "Paris its Agent Morgan can you hear me kid?" he was surprised to not get an answer "Paris if your in there stand back from the door, I'm coming in, just hold on kid!" Taking a deep breath, Morgan raised his foot and gave the old door a swift kick.

Paris heard the voice, he still didn't recognize the voice that had identified himself as Agent Morgan…why did that name sound familiar?

He tried to answer but when he went to take a deep breath to speak, his throat filled with smoke and he began choking on the thick smoke.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for the mix up with the chapters, I'm not sure how that keeps happening. I am so so sorry for the craziness.


	24. Chapter 24

The flames leaped at Morgan as he kicked the door open, he took the spilt second to survey the room, before he spotted Paris, laying in a crumbled heap on the floor, the fire moving quickly towards him.

"Paris!" Morgan shouted, the boy raised his head up

"I'm…he…" he managed to stutter before he fell back to the floor. Morgan jumped over the flames swatting them back as they attacked the unconscious Paris, but not before it launched itself at Paris's arm, the closest part of him to the flames.

Ripping off a blanket from the bed, Morgan patted the fire that ate away at Paris's long sleeve shirt, the only thing standing between his skin and the hungry flames.

"Morgan?" he heard Reid call from the stairs

"I've got him! He's alive! Reid call for a bus." Morgan replied, wrapping the blanket around Paris's small body "Paris, can you hear me?"

But the only answer Morgan got was a groan from Paris…as his body began to convulse and seizure, Morgan could feel Paris's pulse slowing and could hear a gargling sound from deep in the boy's throat as he struggled to breathe.

Carefully Morgan lifted Paris up into his arms and held him protectively against his own body. He jumped over the flames and ran down the steep stairwell.

Morgan ignored Williamson as he reached for his nephew as Morgan ran by him headed for the exit; there was no time for a reunion.

As he ran for the waiting ambulance, Morgan glanced up and spotted the squad car, in which James Cramer sat, watching the scene a triumphant and smug look on his face…until he saw Morgan and…and Paris laying in his arms.

The Angel of Mercy and the BAU Profiler exchanged a look, confirming to Cramer his worst fear.

All thoughts of being calm, rational and unaffected by the events escaped Cramer as he shouted and cursed hitting his shoulder against the door of the cruiser. Paris was still alive, for how long was debatable, but somehow Cramer had screwed up, a peaceful gentle death was not what Paris would experience.

Morgan looked away from the cruiser as he climbed into the ambulance, Paris still cradled in his arms. The look on Cramer's face reiterated for Derek Morgan that the guidance councilor had failed and he knew it and would have to live with that.

* * *

><p>AN: Just figured I'd give you guys this to think about. When I first envisioned this chapter it came when I heard the song "In the Arms of the Angels" playing on the radio. It sounds sappy, but in my mind the scene and the song fit one another.


	25. Chapter 25

James Cramer had been sitting in the integration room for nearly three hours and had refused to speak. He simply sat in the chair, staring at the wall. With him refusing to cooperate, Greg Francis had no choice but to send him off to lock up to await arrangement. There was enough evidence to hold him on kidnapping and attempted murder of at least Paris, but Francis hoped there would be enough to tie him to the other kids, though Agent Gideon assured him there would be.

Eric had followed the ambulance to the local hospital while Agent Morgan went with Paris in the ambulance.

Francis wanted to be there with his friend and fellow captain, but he knew there would be enough people at that hospital…someone needed to work on Cramer.

The phone call he had been waiting for, came not long after Cramer was lead towards lockup. Letting Francis and the other officers know that Paris was alive…he was unable to breath on his own and the hospital had not only pumped his stomach, but used charcoal to speed up Paris's metabolism to eliminate the effects of the Phenobarbital. Eric hadn't been able to talk long, he just wanted to reassure everyone.

Paris was still unconscious and the doctors were expecting him to remain that way for another few days, but all the doctors and nurses felt confident that physically Paris would make a full recovery.

That had been two days ago and all that was left was the waiting…waiting for Paris to wake up.

The FBI was still in Norster, the media liaison Agent Jareau was wrapping things up with the vultures, while Agents Morgan and Greenaway were pulling together the files to finish their reports. But it was Agents Hotchner and Gideon who caught Greg's attention.

Hotchner had a folder in his hand and was guiding the younger agent, Reid towards Eric's office; the young agent looked confused as he followed his superior.

Gideon on the other hand walked over to the fax machine and extracted the small pile of papers it had produced, before he too walked into the office.

The other agents (save for Jareau) looked as confused as their colleague, but if they really were, they didn't push their curiosity.

Greg knew it was FBI business, but he was curious and found himself wondering if it had anything to do with the case.

Gideon and Hotch had been discussing the best way to approach the situation. Now that Cramer was in custody and Paris was safe and recovering, the issue that would have been a distraction was ready to be resolved. Reid of course had to be told, but both Agents knew that he would want proof, facts, Reid never went on anything with faith alone.

Gideon had spoken to Detective Williamson while his wife and daughter sat with Paris, still waiting for the boy to wake. Williamson unlike Reid had no trouble believing in faith as opposed to facts, Paris's birth certificate was enough for him to allow for a DNA test of his nephew.

The paperwork Gideon had been waiting for, was the result of that test, which he now brought in Detective Williamson's office, the agents had been given permission by the detective to rent his office for as long as they needed.

There would be no dancing around the subject, so Hotch and Gideon decided to just present Reid with what Garcia had stumbled upon and what testing had showed.

"Reid, you know we asked Garcia to dig around to see what kind of connection she could make between Paris and the other kids." Hotch began, "and during the search a couple of red flags showed up."

Gideon reached into the folder and pulled out Paris's second birth certificate.

"No mention of his birthmother or father, just his date of birth and the doctor who delivered him. This one is also dated two days after Paris was born; it's dated March 14th 1995,"

"You know Garcia, her curiosity was irked and she had to know more, particularly why Paris's original birth certificate, the one with his birthmother's name on it was sealed." Hotch paused and exchanged a look with Gideon, Reid looked at the pair suspiciously, wondering why he was being told this.

"This is Paris's original birth certificate, it's dated March 12th 1995." Gideon finished, handing the certificate to Reid as he and Hotch waited for the reaction.

Reid's eyes grew wide as he scanned the certificate

"There has to be a mistake." He finally said "or someone else with the same name."

"We checked Spencer." Gideon replied "we ran a DNA test on Paris. He is your half brother."

"It's not possible. I was thirteen, I think I would have known if my mother was pregnant."

"Reid where were you in March of '95?" Hotch asked "correct me if I'm wrong but weren't you in your first year of college?"

Reid slumped back in his chair, how could he not have known…it wasn't logical. There had to be a mistake.

"But even still, I would have noticed."

"Not necessarily. Reid think about what Williamson told us, Paris was born four months premature, chances are your mother wouldn't have been obviously pregnant, especially if she was intentionally keeping it from you." Hotch answered

Reid's face went pale for a moment and Hotch and Gideon looked at him alarmed.

"Spencer?" Gideon pushed

"When I came home for a weekend, it was about the last week of March, my mother, she was apologizing over and over again and repeating the baby the baby." Reid paused "I could tell she had stopped taking her meds I couldn't be sure for how long so I just assumed she was having a delusion. I never…"

"Reid you were thirteen and in college and your mother was pretty adamant about keeping this from you. She went to great lengths to make sure you didn't know, that no one knew."

"Who knows now?" Reid asked setting the files back on Williamson's desk.

"Garcia at the moment, we told the Williamson's so they could consent to testing Paris. No one else. It's your decision on who else you want to be told right now and if you would like we can explain it to the rest of the team. But I think there is one person you need to go see right now, you both have been kept in the dark about this for a long time." Reid nodded…he had so many question that needed to be answered, Paris would have many if not more as well, and Reid wasn't sure if he could answer all of them. He also wasn't sure how Paris would react to this news, because he was having enough trouble with the information himself.

As Reid was leaving the station, he glanced at the calendar and realized the date…it was March 12th 2006, Paris was exactly eleven years old today, and eleven years after the fact, Dr. Spencer Reid was learning that he was an older brother.


	26. Chapter 26

It would be another two days before Paris would wake up. He was disoriented, frightened, and in pain, but was quickly calmed by the presence of his relatives…especially his cousin Janet, home from college for spring break.

Reid knocked gently on the door frame and walked into the hospital room. The day or so before Paris had regained conscious, Reid had spent with the Williamsons, all four keeping vigil over Paris at the hospital.

Once Paris was awake, Reid had slipped out for a change of clothes, to let the team and the officers still gathered at Norster know the good news, and vowed to return with coffee for the family (coffee other than the hospital's version).

Detective Williamson and his wife Lori were both reading, while Janet, their daughter sat on the edge of Paris's hospital bed, both playing a video game on the TV; the family looked up when Reid walked in.

"Dr. Reid!" Paris exclaimed, his voice still hoarse from the tube that only days before had been keeping him alive.

"Hi Paris," Reid replied, handing the coffee cups to the Williamsons, before looking at Detective Williamson who nodded. He knew this conversation had to happen, Paris deserved to know and the conversation needed to happen without an audience.

"Hey Paris, how about I sneak you in some real food?" Eric said taking a sip of his coffee, the grin on Paris's face was priceless as he nodded quickly.

"Oreo cookies…please bring me some Oreo cookies." he begged "I will clean the dishwasher and vacuum the whole house for a year if you just bring me Oreos!"

"Oreos might be a little rough on your throat," Lori reminded him "how about some gogurt? I know you love those and they might make your throat feel a little bit better." Paris frowned, but nodded

"Ok, gogurt."

Janet laughed at her younger cousin and paused their game.

"When I get back you are so getting your butt whopped!" she said kissing the top of Paris's head.

Paris watched as his aunt, uncle, and cousin headed out of his room, he was a little confused, but was happy with the prospect of actual food and that distracted him for a few seconds.

"How are you feeling?" Reid asked taking the chair near the bed.

"Better…my arm still hurts a little and my throat hurts, but not as bad as it was yesterday." Paris paused and looked at Dr. Reid carefully "so it was Mr. Cramer…I wasn't jumping to conclusions?" Reid shook his head and Paris lowered his head "I never got the chance to thank you…you and your team for coming to get me…you guys saved me. I don't remember much…but I do remember you and Agent Morgan calling my name…you guys found me didn't you?"

"Paris, it's what we do, you of all people should know that." Reid paused, and took a deep breath. He had gone over this conversation in his mind over and over and each time sounded worse than the previous "Paris, I need to discuss something with you, something that's going to be hard for you to believe and maybe even hard to understand, I just need you to trust me."

Paris raised an eyebrow

"Dr. Reid…what's going on?" he asked quietly, his face scrunched up in confusion.

"How much did your mom tell you about your birthmother?"

Paris shrugged

"Not much I guess…she didn't know much. Mom told me everything she knew,"

"And what was that?"

"Well…she said that my birthmother was sick, she couldn't take care of me and she gave me up not because she didn't want me and definitely not because she didn't love me, but because she wanted me to have the life that she couldn't give me." Paris paused and looked at his hands for a minute "when I was little, I thought it might have been because I was a preemie, that maybe if I hadn't been so sickly and stuff my birth-mom might have wanted me. But Leslie always insisted that wasn't true." He looked up at Reid "that's all I know… that's all mom ever told me."

Reid reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a file and Paris eyed it nervously, he wasn't sure what was in that folder, but he was certain he wouldn't like what it held.

"This is something that was sealed…but it never should have been kept from you."

"What's this?" Paris asked opening it and carefully dropping the documents onto the blanket.

"It's your original birth certificate." Paris looked up quickly, he had never seen his original birth certificate, he had never asked about it, because it never seemed important to him.

He knew he wasn't Leslie's biological son, but in Paris's mind, sharing a biological connection with someone doesn't automatically make you family…there's more to family than the sharing of the same genes.

He carefully looked over the document, there was only the name Baby Boy X under name of child and there was no name under father, the date of birth was correct, but it was what was written in black ink that caught Paris's attention, it was the name under mother… his birthmother, the one who had given him up…Diana Reid.

Quickly Paris looked up and looked Dr. Reid in the eyes…searching for confirmation about what he had just read.

"Diana Reid…that's my…" his voice trailed off…unable to say the word 'mother' aloud.

Dr. Reid nodded

"Diana Reid is your biological mother…and mine."

Paris stared at Dr. Reid… unbelieving…this had to be a dream…he had to still be unconscious.

It didn't take long for any doubt Paris had to go right out the window, the evidence was just to overwhelming to not be true…especially when the Williamsons returned (toting double stuffed Oreos) and Eric confirmed the whole story.

Paris still wasn't sure what to think…he was confused about the whole thing and had so many questions…but he really didn't think Dr. Re…his brother could answer them all, or would want to for that matter.

Obviously he had no idea that Paris had existed, so that meant that all this had been kept from him as well.

But two questions hung heavy in Paris's mind…why was his father's name not on the birth certificate…did that mean they had different fathers? And if so, who was his. The second question was about their mother…this Diana…where was she? Was she as sick as Leslie had told him? But that brought its own question, if she couldn't be that sick because she had obviously raised Dr. Reid.

Maybe her illness had gotten progressively worse and by the time he had come around she didn't think she could take care of him. But then again why hadn't she told Dr. Reid that he had a brother, that's eleven years she kept that from him. A thought passed through Paris's mind, what if he had been an accident, what if he wasn't meant to be. Paris felt his stomach go sour and all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and hide.

"Go ahead Paris, I know you have questions I can see it." Reid spoke up, bringing Paris back to reality. A place he really didn't want to be at the moment, he was perfectly happy staying as far from reality as possible. "Look Paris, we're both going to have to get used to this fact, neither of us was prepared for something like this, but it did and we both have to look at it as a good thing, sure its life altering but it is not destructive."

Paris nodded and pulled himself up so he was sitting. His whole body was stiff, but he managed to pull himself into an Indian seat and looked at Dr. Reid expectantly, Reid nodded and pulled over a chair next to the bed.

"Can I ask you a question?" Paris asked

"Of course."

"Is you…our mother, is she sick?"

Reid took a deep breath and nodded

"She is, she has something called paranoid schizophrenia." Paris nodded again

"I've read about it, sort of." He paused "is that why she gave me up? I knew when I was little that Leslie wasn't my real mom, she told me that my birth mom was sick and couldn't take care of me the way she wanted to."

Reid rubbed his temple and nodded slowly. Paris didn't need to know the entire story, at least not just yet, Reid hated his first act as a brother to be to lie to Paris, but this truth particular was hard to explain to an eleven year old kid who had just experienced what Paris had, let alone help him truly understand it. Reid wondered how much time it would take, especially when the truth surrounding Paris's birth came to light, but Reid knew he'd have to try.

A minute or so of silence ticked by, Paris was trying to sort the last few days out and failing. For one thing he had almost been killed and he would carry that memory forever, a grownup he had trusted had been the one who tried to kill him, neither of those made sense, and Paris doubted they ever would. But Paris knew he wasn't alone and would have to learn that and he knew it.

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><p>AN: Again I apologize for the mix up with the last chapter. I was having trouble with the site the day I uploaded that and apparently the trouble was more than I thought. Thank you guys for putting up with the insanity that went along with updating these chapters, it was not my intention to confuse or annoy. Next chapter up in a couple days.


	27. Chapter 27

A/N: I said it early on in the fic, I have never been to Vegas, so I either researched stuff online or talked to friends and family who have been there. The park that is mentioned in this chapter is not real It was created by me. Enjoy!

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><p>Paris slid out of Lori's SUV, Lori reached out and took his hand gently.<p>

"Are you ready?" she asked brushing his bangs back from his face. "Paris if you're not you need to tell me now."

Paris shook his head

"No, I'm good." He paused "whose going to be there?"

"Only a handful of people Paris." Eric spoke up "the FBI…and the other families. We wanted to keep it private and simple."

"The Kilbourns?"

"Yes."

The family walked from the parked cars through the gates of the large park. In the distance, Paris could see a large group gathered, he saw Grant's foster parents and also the BAU team, including his…his brother. Dr. Reid gave him a grin and waved, which Paris returned. He was still having trouble getting used to that, he liked the idea of having a brother…especially an older one, but the circumstances that they were brought together confused Paris…

The other people Paris knew had to be the families of the other kids…and the older guy in the suit Paris recognized as the Deputy Mayor of the city. When they reached the group, Paris started to walk to his brother, but was stopped by the Deputy Mayor, who put his hand out to Eric, shaking it firmly.

"Captain…an honor to meet you and your family." He said, before looking at Paris. "and it is especially an honor to meet you young man." The deputy mayor said, holding out his hand to Paris. He reached out and timidly shook the older man's hand, for a few seconds, before pulling his hand back…Paris hated meeting new people, his shy quiet demeanor made his nerves go haywire when put in the situation.

The Deputy Mayor cleared his throat and walked through the small crowd towards a tarp. Paris took the chance to dart over to Reid, coming to a halt at his brother's side.

"How are you feeling?" Reid asked, his voice just above a whisper

"Better…it felt good to sleep in my own bed last night…I don't like hospitals…they give me the creeps."

"My feelings are mutual." Reid replied, giving Paris a half grin

"I thought you guys would be heading back to Quantico…"

"We still have a few loose ends to tie up, and none of us wanted to miss this." Paris looked at the other families, he saw the pain in each of their faces…the sorrow. "You ok?"

Paris took a deep breath, before glancing up at his brother

"Do you ever get used to that?" Reid looked around, seeing what Paris saw.

"No, it's not something you get used to…you never want to lose your humanity, your empathy, you don't want to get used to it."

"Doesn't that make the job tougher?"

"Of course, but you need to find the balance."

"Balance, what kind of balance?"

"The balance between emotionally connecting yourself to each case and shutting down completely, you need to be able to empathize with the victims and their pain, but not let it affect you doing your job. Feel their plight, but don't become them."

"Oh."

"When someone finds themselves unable to feel anything during a case, that's when it's dangerous." Reid paused "it's something you learn, it comes with time."

"When Uncle Eric told me that Grant had been killed…I didn't do anything…I didn't cry or anything like that. He was my best friend and I still haven't cried…I mean I miss him and feel sad that he's gone…but it's like I feel empty. When my mom died, I know I cried, but I knew she had been sick…I expected something…but Grant I didn't expect it…I don't get how I could feel sad for something I knew was inevitable, but feel nothing for something that shouldn't have happened. Is that the same thing as shutting down? Have I already lost my empathy?"

Reid shook his head

"No Paris…everyone reacts differently to death, depending on the situation…blocking out what is going on is one coping mechanism. Some people need to cry, some need to be alone, some numb themselves to the reality. Problem with that one is, when it does hit you it will hit you hard, something will trigger it…you won't know what that trigger will be, but it will happen."

"Great." Paris grumbled

"The warning signs will be there, your aunt and uncle will spot it even before you do. They'll help you through it."

"and…and you?"

Reid looked at Paris with surprise, before he nodded and grinned.

"It will take some time; we both have a lot to learn with this, there's only so much we can read on being a brother."

Paris returned the grin and nodded. Eric and Lori had made their way over to the brothers and Eric shook Reid's hand.

The Deputy Mayor cleared his throat again, calling everyone attention to the front…and to the tarp.

"In two weeks, this park and playground will be open to the public. We will have an opening ceremony cutting the ribbon and giving the children and families of Northeast Las Vegas and the rest of the city a place to play. However, in light of recent events that has plagued our city there have been some changes made to the dedication. Over the span of six months we lost five of humanity's most precious commodity. Philip Carlson, Michael King, Gracie Newton, Josie Marshal, and Grant Dennerson, all had their lives cut short by a man who decided that society had forgotten about these five children. This park, though it will not bring them back to us, is the City of Las Vegas' way of declaring we did not forget about Philip, Michael, Gracie, Josie, and Grant…nor did we cast them out of our lives. All five will be immortalized and will serve as a reminder about how precious a child is." The Deputy Mayor paused, and scanned the crowd, until his eyes settled on Paris.

"I don't want to go up there," Paris whispered to his family Lori and Eric exchanged a look, before looking at Reid.

"It is also easy to forget that a sixth child was nearly lost to the madman. I think it is only fitting that he unveil the memorial." He paused "Paris?"

"I really don't want to go up there…" Paris whispered, "I don't want to face their families."

Eric knelt down so he was eyelevel with Paris, he put both hands on the boy's thin shoulders and pulled him close.

"Then don't do it for them…don't do it for the mayor, or for us…Do it for Grant. Let the other families see you, but do it for Grant."

Paris took a deep breath and nodded

"For Grant…" he replied and walked up through the crowd towards the Deputy Mayor, who smiled gently and patted Paris's shoulders.

"Now, the memorial itself will not be ready until the dedication. But the base is just as important as what will be on top. My only hope is that this will not only serve as a reminder, but provide some hope for you, the families of those five lost."

Paris looked up and saw Mrs. Kilbourn, Grant's foster mother she met his eyes, she smiled sadly at him and gave him a comforting nod.

Carefully Paris took hold of the tarp and gently pulled it off. Underneath was a stone base, with a bronze plaque.

It read: Never Lost, Never Forgotten, Never from our minds:

Philip Carlson

Michael King

Gracie Newton

Josie Marshal

Grant Dennerson Kilbourn.

Paris blinked and read his best friends name again, he looked over at Eric and read his face…the adoption paperwork on Grant must have gone through…right before he was killed. Paris flashed back…Grant had called him the night before he went missing, asking if Paris wanted to out to dinner with him and his foster family…the following night the Kilbourn's had some news that they wanted to tell Grant and they wanted Paris there with them.

Suddenly Paris felt sick to his stomach…that had to be the news…Grant was going to be officially out of the system and adopted by the first foster family that had understood him that had connected to him.

"Gr…" Paris started to say…his chest felt tight and he felt dizzy…Spencer had said he wouldn't know when he would be hit by Grant's death…it would come on suddenly and it would be powerful.

The mayor was still talking no one was paying attention to Paris…but then again…Paris wasn't being obvious, he was slowly backing away, no one noticed…no one realized he was preparing to take off, to run as far and as fast as he possibly could…no one noticed…save for one.

Paris stopped when he backed into someone, quickly he looked up, it was his brother.

"Come on, lets take a walk." Spencer whispered, patting his shoulder. Paris nodded and followed Reid away from the group, towards the playground.

At the playground, Paris sat down on one of the swings, his chest still felt tight and he was having trouble breathing. Spencer sat down in the swing next to him, waiting for Paris to calm.

"Just take deep breaths Paris, slow deep breaths."

"Is…is this what you…you meant" Paris said softly, wheezing as he spoke, he lowered his head trying to control his breathing.

"I told you something would trigger it, you wouldn't expect it and you wouldn't know what that trigger would be."

"You knew…didn't you?" Paris paused "when?"

"When you walked up to the front."

Paris took a deep breath

"You profiled me?"

Spencer nodded

"Which isn't as easy as you think, believe it or not you're not easy to profile Paris." He paused "Paris?"

"He…he killed my best friend…" Paris muttered "I went to Grant's wake…I saw his body…, I looked right into his face and I still didn't cry, I felt sad, but I didn't cry…and even knowing who killed my best friend…a guy we trusted…who cared about us…even knowing who did it…it didn't change anything."

Suddenly all the emotions Paris had been holding back began to spill out, tears began streaming down his face, quickly though, he wiped his eyes, embarrassed that he had cried…he was eleven not one. He was embarrassing himself in front of his brother…who was not only that…but a FBI agent.

Spencer wasn't sure what to do at first, but he hesitantly put a hand on Paris's shoulder, that one gesture was all the approval Paris needed, he jumped off the swing and wrapped his arms around his brother's waist. Spencer was shocked for a second, but hugged his brother back.

"Hey, its ok. Look Paris, I cant tell you its going to get better, because you know that it takes time, and you'll never forget any of this happening. But it will eventually become just that, a memory."


	28. Chapter 28

Four Months later

North East Las Vegas District Courthouse. Family Court division. Custody Hearing: State of Nevada Vs. Williamsons and Reid.

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><p>"Mr. Reid only JUST found out that he even has a brother and now all this is, is his attempt to minimize the guilt he is feeling and I personally don't think we should encourage that." Vicki Mason, Paris's outspoken and one track-mind caseworker pointed out. The hearing had been going for an hour already; with both sides getting nowhere Vicki Mason was against the idea of Reid having any custody of Paris at all, even joint custody with the Williamsons.<p>

"Dr. Reid" Eric Williamson corrected loudly as he stood up. "has been completely involved in Paris's life since we all learned that they are brothers! It was a surprise to all of us, but especially to Paris and Spencer, especially since we learned of this right after Paris was nearly killed!"

"Dianna Reid was coerced during her pregnancy to give up Paris for adoption by the very lawyer who just happens to be the boy's father." The Williamson's lawyer spoke up "the lawyer in question is up on charges and is least of all facing expulsion from the bar for his conduct during this particular case as well as many others. He convinced a schizophrenic woman in his care to give up the child he fathered in order to disassociate himself from boy. He recently closed his practice after a number of other transgressions of similar type, he was served with charges and has since gone off the grid with warrants following him. At the time of Paris's birth, Dr. Reid was a twelve year old child himself away at college and had no knowledge of his mother's predicament. Mrs. Reid was lucid enough to not only hide the pregnancy from Dr. Reid, but to keep it from him after the fact, mainly because she had been convinced by the lawyer that the baby had been born stillborn."

"I see." The judge said softly.

"Dr. Reid calls Paris every night to ask about his day, he receives copies of Paris's progress reports, and is the main reason Paris retook the IQ test, scoring if I may remind Ms. Mason: a 183. Living across the country is the reason Dr. Reid wants to take partial custody of his brother he wants to be more involved in Paris's life and it has become a tough thing being six thousand miles apart for him to do so. Paris has already applied and been accepted to a very prestigious and exclusive private school in Virginia, he wants to go to this school, Leslie wanted him to go to this school and damn it my wife and I will see that he gets there."

"Need I remind the court that this private school Mr. Williamson-"

"Detective" Eric muttered under his breath, getting a chuckle from Spencer and a elbow from Lori

"-Speaks of, is a private boarding school, if we allow Dr. Reid to take partial custody of Paris, he will simply dump him off at this boarding school and forget about him. Paris is much better off staying here in Vegas with the Williamson's. At least when he is here we know he is not neglected."

"Neglected?" Reid exclaimed, Eric put a hand on the young FBI agent's shoulder

"Dr. Reid is a Federal Agent, part of FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit, they travel all over the country but are based out of the FBI Academy at Quantico, are you really going to argue that a FBI agent is incapable of being a guardian to his younger brother."

Vicki Mason had a smirk on her face that made even level headed Eric Williamson feel very argumentative. She was pushing all the right buttons and if Eric didn't know any better would say she was actually enjoying herself.

"This hearing is not about Dr. Reid's ability to provide adequate financial and menial care for Paris, but whether his profession will make actually providing stability for Paris possible. You said it yourself, the BAU travels all over the country, how exactly will Dr. Reid be able to care for Paris if he's in say California while Paris is in a hospital in Virginia."

"Your honor if I may?" Hotch interjected standing up. The head of the BAU had come along with Reid mainly for moral support, but also because of his law background, Hotch knew he might have to step in.

The Williamsons had no problem with joint custody, in fact if anything they were all for it, and the lawyer they had originally hired to help them fully and legally adopt Pairs prior to learning of his relation to Spencer, had offered to attend the hearing to put more pressure on Vicki Mason to agree to the living arrangements.

Paris's caseworker however had made it her life's work to make the Williamsons miserable and now that Reid was in the picture he was also a target. Mainly because like Leslie before him, Reid was planning on removing Paris from Vicki Mason's "care" and therein removing her goldmine, something she was fighting tooth and nail against.

"And you are sir?" the judge asked

"I am Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner, I'm the lead agent of the BAU and Dr. Reid's superior. I'm also a lawyer."

"And what can we do for you Agent Hotchner,"

"I am here to attest to Dr. Reid's complete commitment to his brother's needs. Detective Williamson is correct in the fact that our team travels, however even when we are on a case, Paris will not be completely cut off from people who are more than willing to step in and help out. There is a support system that is always in Virginia and will be on hand should Paris need anything."

"Ok this is out of hand your honor, the FBI really? Why is the FBI getting involved in a custody hearing! Even if Agent Hotchner's goal here is to simply act as a character witness, its unnecessary and is violating States rights with a Federal officer getting involved."

"Your honor, its Ms. Mason who has technically made this a Federal case, she is the one who brought Dr. Reid's profession into the case."

Vick opened her mouth to argue with Eric, when Judge Gonzales wrapped her gavel on the bench.

"Actually Ms. Mason, I think Agent Hotchner has the right idea here," the judge said "the underlining fact here is that Paris is the younger brother of a FBI agent, therefore he is put into a different category then he was the last time we had this discussion regarding custody. If I may remind you Ms. Mason, the last conversation we had all together in this courtroom, you were once again arguing against the Williamson family seeking full custody of Paris after the arguments you created with Leslie Smith, Paris's first foster-mother up until her death last year. As you have a habit of proceeding this way and have done so in the past, I am going to interject this entire insanity. Dr. Reid is a blood relative and it is the goal of any custody case to place the child not only in a safe environment, but preferably with a blood relative provided that blood relative is responsible and will provide the child with the best possible living environment that relates to the NEEDS of the child in question." Judge Gonzales looked over at Eric and Lori "Detective, what school is this?"

"it's the Carlisle Prep School, in Axton Virginia, just outside of Martinsville." Lori answered

"Carlisle…really?" Lori, Eric, Reid, and Hotch all nodded "that is one of the most famous prep schools in the country."

"Yes," Eric replied "and Paris will be entering as a freshman, it has already been worked out with all the necessary parties at Carlisle. Paris has run out of options here in Vegas, he is terrified of going to school next year because it is where Cramer was employed. The events of March have not healed for Paris, he still wakes up from night terrors, we have tried therapy, but he refuses to go. He lost his best friend and a part of his childhood at the hands of someone he was supposed to trust, someone we all trusted. A change of scenery and a fresh start is what he needs. Sending him to Virginia breaks Lori and I's hearts because he is a part of our family without a doubt. But we know it's what is best for Paris, he loves his brother and was mature enough to start suggesting this move, he deserves the opportunity to get to know another part of his family, the one he should have always known."

Vicki started to open her mouth to argue or make some comment, but the judge silenced her with one look.

"Dr. Reid, are you certain you are prepared to take on this responsibility?" the judge asked looking at Reid hard

"Yes your honor."

"I would like to speak with Paris in my chamber before I make my ruling." The judge stood up as did everyone in the courtroom. "Paris is down the hall in the family room, have him brought to my chamber," she said to the bailiff who nodded and headed out to fetch Paris, while the judge exited through her own back entrance.

Once she was gone everyone sat down again. Vicki looked livid and was shooting poisonous glares at the Williamsons, Reid, Hotch, and the lawyer, who all ignored it.

"I think we're in the clear here," the lawyer spoke up

"How do you figure?" Eric asked in whisper

"Judge Gonzales has dealt with Vicki Mason in the past, and she knows how the woman operates, Paris is not the first foster child she has gotten her claws into and gave the adoptive family a hard time, and as you know both Leslie and you folks have been in her court before regarding these same issues. I have read over the past transcripts, Judge Gonzales had been all set to approve of Paris's adoption by Leslie when she relinquished custody to you and Lori. I'm not sure how Mason managed to keep your case out of Gonzales courtroom, but I can assure you, Gonzales always looks at what the child needs she was a social worker herself she knows how to talk to kids and basis her decision on the situation and the child's needs, not what the social worker is telling her."

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><p>Paris timidly walked into Judge Gonzales's chambers, it was very kid friendly, she had kept in mind the fact that she was a family court judge and had decorated her chambers to fit that fact. So Paris felt a little more comfortable when he got a good look around.<p>

"Hello there Paris, do you remember me?" Judge Gonzales spoke up from her desk and Paris nodded

"Yes your honor, I met you when-"

"When Leslie Smith was trying to adopt you, honey I was so sorry to hear about her death, she was a very sweet woman and a wonderful asset to the foster care system. I worked with her on many cases and was always pleased to do so, and she loved you very much."

"I know." Paris replied softly, he felt a tear sting his eye and blinked it away quickly, he missed his mom so much.

"Why don't you have a seat, I have a few questions to ask you if that's ok?" Paris nodded and took a seat in front of her desk, she came around and sat in the other chair, turning both so they were facing each other, making the situation a lot more comfortable. "Now, you are a very smart young man, you know why you are here today and what has been going on in the courtroom yes?"

"Yes, Spence wants to take partial custody of me and Ms. Mason is fighting him on it."

"Exactly Paris, now your aunt and uncle have no problem with your brother's decision, they are happy to be a part of it do you know why?"

"Not really." As smart as Paris was, the legal proceedings were still new to him, he had the basics down for the most part, but wasn't sure what his standings would be after the hearing, or what Ms. Mason's connection with him would be.

"As your brother and therefore a blood relative, Dr. Reid could take full custody of you, as much as I'm sure he would like to, he has the Williamsons to consider and knows how important you are to them and I'm sure they are to you?" Paris nodded "he doesn't want to hurt them so both your aunt and uncle and your brother have come to this arrangement of partial custody. Which means you will no longer be a ward of the state." Paris's eyes lit up

"Meaning I can go to Carlisle?"

"Of course, this partial custody will mean that legally your brother will be responsible for you until you are eighteen, but he has decided to leave some decisions and responsibilities up to the Williamsons, you will never be out of their lives which is what both you and them want correct?"

"Yes!"

"The best way to think of this arrangement is like this, Dr. Reid and the Williamsons will be sharing custody of you and sharing responsibility for you. Living arrangements will be up to both parties to decide though I am almost certain there will be no need for mediation." She paused "but Paris, I want to know that the decision I make today is in your best interest, I understand that you are excited to attend Carlisle correct?" Paris nodded "however do to your brother's employment you understand the boarding situation? That appears to be Ms. Mason's biggest concern, among other things, she is concerned that you may feel abandoned and therefore neglected at living at a boarding school at such a young age."

"I wont feel abandoned, I want to go to Carlisle, its one of the best schools in the country and its where my mom wanted me to go before she got sick. Of course I wouldn't have been living there but you have to adapt when the situation changes. I can live with my brother on the weekends I want to come home and during vacations, and I can come home to Vegas to stay with Aunt Lori and Uncle Eric anytime I want. I may be only eleven, but I know this is the best situation for me, it's the best opportunity."

"That was very well said Paris, sometimes it is hard to remember that you are a child, because you are in many aspects much more mature than your age suggests. Why don't you go into the courtroom with your family, I have some things to think over to make my ruling."

Paris stood up and started towards the door, he turned and looked at Judge Gonzales for a moment.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure honey,"

"Even though Leslie wasn't able to legally adopt me, she did name me, including her last name and I was wondering…I won't lose that will I?"

"Oh Paris of course not, it is your name, you are free to do with it what you want, you've been Paris Smith for your entire life, this custody change will not undo anything that Leslie did."

"This is going to sound weird, but can I ask another question that's a little out there?" Judge Gonzales smiled and nodded "I want to keep my last name, but could I possibly hyphenate it? Y'know so Spence knows that I want to be a part of his family, even though we don't have the same dad?"

"I think that would be fine Paris, would you like to decide how its written?" Paris nodded "and how do you want your full name to be down?"

"Paris Alexander Smith-Reid."

"I will write that down Paris."

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><p>Out in the courtroom, Paris made a beeline for his family, Lori hugged him tight and kissed the top of his head. He hadn't realized how many people his family had fighting for him, he knew about the lawyer, but hadn't expected Agent Hotchner to be there.<p>

"Agent Hotchner," Paris stuttered "hi,"

"Good to see you Paris, how have you been?"

"Pretty good, did you come with Spence?" Paris glanced over at his brother who held out his fist, Paris grinned and tapped his small fist against his brother's.

"I did, I came just in case there was a call for backup. We want to make sure this goes through with no hitch."

Paris was about to reply when the bailiff cleared his throat catching everyone's attention and silencing the room.

"All rise," he called as everyone went to their feet, Lori kept her arm around Paris's shoulders as Judge Gonzales emerged from her chambers. "be seated,"

"I have had a chance to hear all the testimony from both parties as well as a nice discussion with Paris. This case should have been settled years ago, starting with Leslie Smith, and that is the case of custody. Paris is a special and smart young man who not only deserves all the opportunities out there to succeed but also possesses a determination and a will to actually go reach his full potential. In order to do so, he will need a strong support system and it is my ruling that the strong support system does not and cannot exist within one family but will with two, I hereby grant joint custody of Paris Alexander Smith-Reid to Lori and Eric Williamson and to Dr. Spencer Reid." And with that Judge Gonzales banged her gavel down affirming the decision, Eric reached over and swept Paris up in a huge hug, as Lori hugged Reid, and Hotch and the lawyer shook hands.

Vicki Mason did not say a word to the two families, instead gathered up her belongings and made a direct line to the door, leaving the Williamsons, Spencer, Paris, Hotch, and the lawyer to celebrate the victory.

"I do need both parties up at my bench though, to sign the paperwork." Judge Gonzales called out with a smile, Paris followed his aunt, uncle, and brother up to the bench and watched as the documents were signed, then stamped, making everything the judge had just said official.

As the two family's left the courthouse, Spencer slowed to a stop and knelt down so he was looking up at Paris

"Did you ask her to hyphenate your name?" he asked and Paris nodded

"I did, I hope you don't mind."

"Why would I mind, I'm just curious why?"

"We're brothers, but its only by DNA, I want to be able to become real brothers and I figured start with the name and go from there, I didn't want to lose Leslie, but I didn't want to lose you either. Without her I wouldn't even have a name, she gave me an identity and having that means the world to me, but it also reminds me that I don't know who part of me is, I mean my real dad left me with nothing right?"

Reid didn't know how to answer that, for once in his life he was lost for words as he stood back up thinking it over. Paris was right of course. Reid could have told him his father's name, he knew it of course, but Paris's father didn't deserve to have his name attached to Paris and Paris had obviously never made inquiries about his real father, which was good, genetics were the only thing tying Paris to his father.

Not to mention Reid saw practically nothing of Paris's father in him except his eyes, Paris could have easily been Reid at eleven, in some ways he looked more like their mother than even Reid did. If Paris wanted to hyphenate his name, Reid saw no problem with that, Paris was right, it was yet another way to connect the two lost brothers together.

Reid put a hand on Paris's shoulder and nodded his approval, both choosing to leave Paris's question unanswered, since both could answer it themselves without speaking it. Without warning, Paris wrapped his skinny arms around his brother's waist, hugging him tight; after hesitating for just a second, Reid hugged him back. As the two brothers followed the others to waiting cars, heading for a celebratory dinner, Paris felt a relief he hadn't felt in months, years even, he felt content, safe, and free.

Reid: _I don't believe an accident of birth makes people sisters or brothers. It makes them siblings, gives them mutuality of parentage. Sisterhood and brotherhood is a condition people have to work at_. ~Maya Angelou

* * *

><p>AN: Ok first off I am so sorry it took so long to update this, the last chapter was supposed to be the last one, then I stumbled on this one that had some how ended up in a different folder from the rest of this fic and i just found it last night and remembered it was one of the extra chapters I wrote, but had planned on using it as the end, hence the quote. Ok with that said, the school that Paris wants to attend is real. When I first wrote this fic I had it planned that Paris would attend a Private school in Virginia that would provide boarding, a few came up, but doing research Carlisle is the one that not only seemed the best, but was actually right where I needed to it to be. I have another fic that follows Paris and Reid that I'll try to upload within the week that covers the "need it to be". For now I want to thank everyone for the reviews I received and for the help I received for the information on the medical/drug parts from a close friend on here who is in the medical field, without whom I never would have gotten anywhere with this fic. So thanks again everyone!


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